


A Thing About You

by reliquiaen



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 110,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3410057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliquiaen/pseuds/reliquiaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What a beautiful mess, One part angel, one part perfect, one part a wreck, The kind of flood you'll never forget" - I did a thing. I've been meaning to put this idea down for a while, so here we go. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If You Don’t Jump

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm re-uploading this here, I'm not going to bother putting in the ANs that went with it originally. If you're curious you can find them and the names of the songs used here:  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9666736/1/A-Thing-About-You

It was a quiet evening in the diner, other than the cashier, just one person remained. She sat in the corner booth underneath the air conditioning vent so the cool air blasted her from above. It wasn't a particularly warm evening; she just preferred the cold to the heat. She sighed into her teacup; fingers splayed around the glass, eyes closed, and the sound of the spring storm pattering rain against the roof nearly enough to put her to sleep.

"Are you feeling ok, Bonnie?" Peter, the cashier asked. He had a red and white checked towel over one shoulder and a tray in his hands, still cleaning up the last of the tables. "You need a lift or something?"

She shook her head tiredly. "No thank you, Pete. My car's at the curb."

"Alright," he said with a shrug and a wan smile. "Much as I'd love to let you sit there all evening though, I do have to shut up soon."

Bonnie nodded, slumping forward in her seat, arms stretched out across the table. The phone in her bag on the seat beside her beeped once but she ignored it. It was probably just her brother again, asking if she was coming home for the weekend. She still didn't know if she would or not, it was just so hard to juggle everything.

The door to the diner blew open and slammed against the wall, bouncing it hit so hard. Cold air rushed in and brought with it a few drops of rain. Those few drops turned into a puddle as a woman stepped inside. She had a bright red knapsack slung over one shoulder, one hand clasped around the handle of a wheeled suitcase, trailing behind her and also a crimson colour; and her other hand clutched a third bag that looked like an instrument case of some kind. It too looked like a tomato. She stepped in and closed the door behind her, shaking raven hair pulled up in a rough ponytail. Wet strands hung everywhere, across her face, down around her shoulders, curling across her neck; it was a bedraggled and pitiful sort of hair style. And, from her knee high belted boots, to her frayed skinny jeans, to her tattered shirt and partly unzipped leather jacket, she was dressed all in black.

"Sup, yo?" she said to Peter. "Mind if I stop here a moment? It's a bit wet out." She grinned lopsidedly and sank into the closest chair.

"I was just about to close up, ma'am," Peter informed her. He had a wary look in his eye and Bonnie didn't blame him. She dressed like a punk rocker.

She waved him away. "Nah, don't worry about it. I just need to sit for a bit. New to town right? I've got no idea where I'm going. It's changed so much since I passed through last time." Her grin turned into a wry smirk and she swept her dark eyes across the room. They landed on Bonnie and she positively beamed.

Bonnie sank away from the stare, trying to make herself as small as possible. She wasn't precisely _afraid_ of the darkly clad woman, but she didn't trust her either. She decided it was past time for her to be gone. Her phone beeped again just as she snatched it off the chair and slid out of the booth, cup in hand. Bonnie swirled the dregs a few times before placing it gently on the counter, she could still feel dark eyes on her back.

"You off, then Bonnie?" Peter asked, dragging the cup towards him and adding it to the pile of still dirty dishes.

"Yes, I think so." It took a superhuman effort to keep from glancing over her shoulder anxiously. "Thanks for the drink."

He smiled, wiping red hair out of his eyes. "Any time, dear. You be careful. Have you found a tenant yet?"

She shook her head and hitched her bag higher. "Still looking. It's prudent to be careful about shar  
ing living space with someone. I wish Robert would move back in, it was so much easier with him." She sighed, her brother had moved out of her apartment and across town to be closer to his job. Bonnie missed him.

Peter gave her his best reassuring smile. "Yes well… I'm glad you're being careful. Take _care_ of yourself, Bonnie. These late nights can't be good for you."

Bonnie smiled at his concern, lifted a hand in farewell and exited, ducking her head against the rain blowing in under the awning. She made a point of ignoring the smiling stare shot her way by the dark woman. Peter would kick her out shortly, or he'd call Billy down from upstairs. No one said 'no' to Billy.

She drove slowly through the downpour, wipers going like crazy across her windshield and by the time she finally got home (about thirty minutes thanks to wet-weather-traffic) all she wanted to do was sleep. Still, knowing it was a bad idea to be so negligent – and with Peter's warning fresh in her mind – she made sure to eat and shower before collapsing on her bed. Bonnie pressed her face into her pillow thanking all the gods in the world that tomorrow was Friday.

________________________________________

It was the infernal knocking at her door that woke her, not the alarm as she'd expected. Groaning groggily, she rolled over and peered blearily at the clock on her bedside table. The little glowing numbers read 9:14am and it was with a swift curse that she bounded out of bed. She must not have set it the night before; it should have woken her two hours ago.

Practically falling out of bed, she snatched her glasses off the table and slipped them over her ears. She paused only long enough to throw on a coat before hustling out to the door. The knocks came in clusters of three she noted.

_Knock-knock-knock_

Curious, Bonnie paused in the act of sliding back the deadbolt. What an unusual habit this person had. They were also incredibly determined; the banging didn't let up once.

_Knock-knock-knock_   
_Knock-knock-knock_   
_Knock-knock-knock_

She tilted her head to one side, thinking with her tongue pressed between her teeth. Not just collections of three, but the grouped knocks were also bracketed in larger groups of nine. After each third pound was a slight pause before the next three, then after the ninth a somewhat longer pause before they resumed again. Fascinating.

Bonnie pushed back the deadbolt and yanked the door open. Hand still upraised to knock; the woman's eyes took a moment to focus on her face. Bonnie very nearly asked if the person knew about their curious knocking habits. Then she squinted through her glasses, brow pulled down in a frown and she gasped in surprise, stepping back.

"Morning sunshine," said the woman happily. She was wearing the broadest grin of anyone ever coupled with a red and black striped pullover, scuffed denim jeans and black buckled boots. The woman who'd burst into the diner yesterday, her hair less dishevelled than it had been and her clothes somewhat more presentable, but still her.

"Hello…?" Bonnie said warily. She might look cleaner this morning, but the other woman still dressed like some sort of punk rock fan. She shouldn't be judging, she hated when people judged her so it was only fair she reserve her opinions. For the moment at least.

The woman waved a piece of paper in the space between them. "You got space to rent, yeah? I need a place to crash while I'm in town."

Bonnie crossed her arms but stepped back, a silent invitation for the woman to come in. "How long are you staying?" She didn't mention that she was picky about roommates, but from the sly glance she got, the woman had already guessed as much. The woman didn’t move at first, and Bonnie had to say, “Come in,” before she did.

She shrugged, dragging her belongings through the door and leaving them in a messy pile. "Indefinitely I guess," she said, still grinning. Bonnie didn't trust her smile; it reminded her of a Cheshire cat. "Got some family business to sort out. I'd stay with my brother across town, but he's already got a roommate. And he uh… gets up to some things I don't need to know about." She waggled her eyebrows in a way that made Bonnie even more uncomfortable.

Her mind whirled; thinking through all the possible reasons to say 'no' to this chick. Despite her appearance though, she seemed friendly enough and didn't have a ton of belongings to leave lying around everywhere. She opened her mouth to say that she wanted to ask a few questions, but the woman cut her off.

"Look," she began, smile fading somewhat. "I know you're one of those suspicious people who probably wants to control every little thing. And you don't trust me. That's fine." She raised her right hand and placed her left one over her heart. "I promise not to bring boys over or have parties. How's that?" Her smile was cheeky again, but she seemed sincere. Bonnie couldn't argue with it.

She sighed. "Fine. You can stay. Just don't trash the place."

That blinding smile burst back onto her face and she stuck out one pale hand. "Sweet. I'm Marceline Abadeer."

Bonnie eyed the hand with its black nail polish and leather wrist bands, but eventually took it. "Bonnibel Bubblegum," she replied softly.

She hadn't thought it possible, but the smile widened. "Bubblegum? Weird name. I'll just call you Bonnie." Marceline winked.

She blinked. Nobody really called her that. All sorts of other names, yes, and she tended to _think_ of herself as 'Bonnie' but… most people called her Elle. She didn't mind so much. In spite of herself, she smiled back.

That smile faded when Marceline headed for the kitchenette and pulled open the door. She rummaged around for a few moments then backed out, grimacing. "You don't have any strawberries," she accused softly with a shake of her head. "What kinda person doesn't have strawberries?"

Bonnie bristled. "Let me show me your room," she ground out between clenched teeth. So she hadn't shopped in a while, life had been busy. Infuriating woman. Bonnie hoped she didn't regret agreeing to this. Although she probably would, her brother said that despite her obnoxious intelligence she was the most indecisive person he knew.

Her apartment wasn't anything fancy really, only five rooms. The entrance, lounge, kitchenette and dining room were all one large space and the dining table didn't even get used that much. Mostly it was just where she dumped her bags after an overly long day and was too tired to be neat. There was a short hall by the lounge area that branched off into a bathroom, two bedrooms (one of which was empty save for a bed) and a study room. The study room was the largest of all of them and was initially meant to be a bedroom. Bonnie didn't need a great deal of space to sleep in though and the desk in her bedroom hadn't been enough for her to work with so her stuff had spilled into the study. Where she'd permanently set up an array of computer screens, a desk and several bookshelves. All of which was messier than she would like to admit.

Of course, when she told Marceline she'd show her the spare bedroom, what the other woman had heard was 'take a look around'. So she stuck her head in every doorway to investigate. She cackled when she saw the study. Bonnibel was not in any way amused.

"This is your space," Bonnie said tartly, throwing open the door. Marceline bounced through and flopped down on the mattress. There were no sheets on the bed, she'd never thought to worry, but Marceline smiled anyway.

"Awesome, this is great, thanks." She collapsed back on the bed, arms spread out, with palms flat. "Yeah… I like it." She rolled onto her feet in a surprisingly graceful movement and flounced out the door. Bonnibel followed her, somewhat apprehensive, but all she did was grab her bags and heave them through the door. Well, she heaved the rucksack, the suitcase she rolled to the corner and the instrument case (Bonnie thought it might be for a guitar of some kind) she laid gently on the bed.

"Oh!" Bonnibel had just recalled one very important detail. She hurried to her room, ignoring Marceline's curious expression. Digging through her bedside table she came up with what she was after, letting out a satisfied grunt. Back across the hall, she tossed the key to her new roommate. It flashed in the low light shining through the curtains and Marceline snatched it one handed from the air.

"A spare key," Bonnie told her. "You'll need it I suppose. I'm going out. Don't break anything."

Marceline smirked. "Dressed like that?" She eyed Bonnibel pointedly and it was then she recalled she was still in her pyjamas.

Bonnie's cheeks heated somewhat. "Obviously not," she snapped, storming back to her room to change. When she emerged (dress, stockings, shoes and thick coat later), Marceline was still lying on the mattress with a smile on her face. "Now I'm going out," she declared and stalked to the door. She made a point of shutting it just a little bit too hard.


	2. A Little Leeway

“Weren’t you supposed to go visit your brother this weekend?”

Bonnibel sighed. She’d forgotten to check her phone. “Yeah,” she breathed. “He’ll get over it though. I visit him _all the time_. I think it’s time he came to me for a change.”

Rain lifted one eyebrow curiously. She pushed her blonde hair from her face and smiled at Bonnibel. “Come on, you know you don’t mean that. You love going to visit him.”

“More to that, Rain?” she asked, pursing her lips.

“You let life get too far in the way, Elle,” her friend consoled. “You don’t have to spend every moment working you know.”

And yet she did. Bonnie had two jobs… well three and a hobby. During the school semester she worked as a tutor for a local high school. They’d needed an after-hours science teacher for some of the kids and Bonnie had been only too happy to help out; and she was a past student. She also worked at the library, every morning except Friday and Sunday. Then there was her job as a research assistant at the science facility which sort of doubled as a hobby. Rain was right, she worked herself ragged, but it was better to keep busy.

“Visit your brother,” Rain insisted. “I hear he has a new roommate. Then get yourself a guy and do something other than sit up to the wee hours of the morning. Caffeine won’t keep you going forever.”

That was true. Eventually she’d build up a tolerance to it and imbibing too much could be dangerous. She sighed again. “I don’t have time for any of that Rain. I have to–” 

“Have to what, Bonnibel? Work yourself to death?” Her friend frowned. “No, take a week off. I’m sure your bosses will forgive you. It’s nearly the mid-semester holidays. Take a break.”

“I’ll take time for a break when the holidays get here, Rain.”

“You said that last year then got another part time job.” It was just like Rain to be blunt, but that sounded almost cynical. “Please? For me?”

Bonnibel did some quick calculations. The holidays were three weeks away, nearly a month, maybe they could compromise. Bonnie steadfastly refused to take too much time off.

“I’ll visit my brother tomorrow,” she relented. “But then I’m working for two weeks. I’ll take time off after that.”

Rain beamed and opened her mouth. Bonnibel knew exactly what her next argument would be and she didn’t want to hear it. They’d had that talk many, many times over the years.

“No guys, Rain,” she interjected. “Not one.”

Her friend pouted, folding arms sheathed in a rainbow sweater. “You _always_ say that. You need more friends.”

Bonnie smiled. “I have plenty of friends. Plus, you might be happy to know, I finally got a roommate. So there.”

Rain’s face lit up and she leaned across the table. They were sitting at a table of a restaurant near the shopping mall, waiting for some friends. Rain danced on the awnings with a soft _pittr-pattr_ sound. “You did? A guy?”

“No Rain, I just said no guys,” Bonnie said, trying to smother a smile. “A girl. She’s… different. You’d probably like her.” _She’s outside my comfort zone anyway_ , she added in her head. _Just like you always wanted_.

“Can I meet her?”

Bonnie shrugged. “Maybe. I wouldn’t say _I’m_ friends with her. But maybe.”

“Hey girls!”

They both turned. Their friends had finally arrived. Jake with his shaggy brown hair, plonked himself beside Rain and kissed her cheek. Then he shook his head, spattering both of them with water. His adopted brother Finn slid onto a seat beside Bonnie and smiled his crazy bright smile, blue eyes shining with his usual over-enthusiasm.

“Good afternoon,” Bonnie greeted. “You’re late.”

“Traffic,” Finn replied, shoulders slumped. His curly blonde hair was plastered across his skull and he blew a few strands off his face. “Wet weather makes people crazy.”

That was certainly true enough. Of course, now that the boys had arrived, Bonnie had to recap the conversation she’d already had with Rain about her new roommate. And, as was their wont, they _insisted_ on meeting her.

All afternoon in fact, they pestered her about Marceline who (in Finn’s words) sounded ‘rad’. Once they finally managed to get out of her that she was indeed going to visit her brother for the weekend, they demanded to go with. Bonnie did not like this. Her Friday was falling apart.

“I don’t even know if she’d want to,” Bonnibel whined at them. “She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who makes friends easily.” Which was unequivocally true.

“Aw, Elle,” said Finn, bouncing a little too energetically for someone who didn’t drink caffeine. “You’re just saying that. I’m sure she’s pure awesome.”

Bonnie sighed. There really was no point in arguing. “Fine,” she allowed. “I will ask her. But if she says she’d rather sit around doing… whatever she does, then I’m not going to press the issue. Got it?” She felt like their mother, and from the look on Finn’s face, he thought the same thing. Besides, Bonnibel didn’t really care to be friends with this girl. Her parents would not approve.

 

*

 

Before she even opened the door to her apartment she knew something was up. It was unlocked for starters and there was a low throb coming from inside. Still holding her unnecessary keys in one hand and the plastic take-out bag in the other, Bonnie hipped the door open and her mouth dropped.

Everything had been rearranged.

Her old school television had been replaced with a wide screen of some kind, her sofa was now accompanied by bean bags and a stand full of CDs now sat in one corner. There were even wall mounted speakers. Other than that, it was clean. Every single surface had been dusted, swept and polished. She could actually see the top of her dining table, a feat she hadn’t been able to manage in months.

The throbbing wasn’t coming from the television, however. It emanated from down the hall and, with a soft jangle as she dropped the keys on the table, Bonnie went to investigate. Her study was still a mess, thankfully and her bedroom was in a similar state of disarray, the bathroom had an extra towel on one rack and a waterproof bag under the sink, but it too remained relatively untouched.

Which left just one room: Marceline’s.

Still holding the food bag, Bonnie pushed open the door and was stunned for a second time. The bed had sheets on it now, including a black and white quilt and pillows. There were pillows now. Another beanbag sat in one corner, a desk with two computer monitors had been set up accompanied by a rather comfortable looking swivel chair. A small bookshelf now leaned on the wall by the door and it was full of more albums, movies and even a few books, some quite large.

Sitting on the swivel chair with bulky headphones wrapped around her head was the room’s owner. She had a large guitar in her lap and was singing softly into the microphone attached to her headphones. It was… a lot to take in.

She must have made a sound of some kind (in which case Marceline had super human hearing to have picked it up over her music) or she’d seen the door open with her peripherals. Bonnibel assumed it was the latter. Marceline, already equipped with her cheeky smile, spun on the chair. 

“Sup, Bonnie? Have a good day?” Her eyes glittered with mischief. Or maybe she was just naturally happy all the time.

Bonnibel, mouth still open, eyes still staring, nodded. “Yeah it was great,” she murmured. “I see you had a productive day.” 

Marceline laughed. “You like it? I haven’t decorated a room in years. It was fun.” She spun back to her computer, clicked a few things with her mouse and then dropped her headphones around her neck.

“I’m just… stunned,” she whispered. “Did you go shopping or did your suitcase belong to Mary Poppins?”

“I _am_ Mary Poppins,” said Marceline, smiling. “Nah, I went shopping. And my computers were in storage. My brother brought them with him when he moved; I just had to pick them up.”

Fair enough, she supposed. There was really no reason to enquire about money, Bonnie wasn’t that nosey. Instead she concentrated on thinking up a way to ask about tomorrow without coming across as weird. They didn’t know each other in the slightest, so would it seem presumptuous to ask such a thing? It was only a trip to the other side of town. She probably wouldn’t stay the night… although sometimes she did.

“Something on your mind, Bon?” Marceline asked. “You look lost in your brain.”

“Oh, no,” she breathed. “I’m fine I guess. It’s just… never mind.” It felt awkward. Bonnie hated awkward things.

“Spit it out, Glasses, would you?” Her fingers flicked and a low _blannng_ came from the strings of her guitar.

“Well.” She took a deep breath. “My friends have been bugging me about getting a roommate for ages. Now that I finally have one they’re being very stubborn about meeting you. I have to go across town tomorrow anyway to meet my brother and they generally tag along. Any chance you’d come with?”

Marceline’s grin practically split her face in two. “My, you’re friendly for someone I just met, Bonnibel.” Her fingers kept fiddling with the strings. “Sure, I’ll come meet your geeky friends. And your brother.” She wiggled her eyebrows again and Bonnie huffed.

“Hmph.” She crossed her arms, already regretting her decision to let this woman stay. “Fine. Be up in the morning, it’s an hour drive with traffic.”

Marceline raised a hand in mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”


	3. Chance is Like Lightning

“So, we gotta pick your friends up too, Bonnie?” Marceline asked around a mouthful of cereal. It was quite the bowl she was working on, Bonnibel wasn’t entirely sure she’d actually eat it all. But then again, she was doing a pretty good job so far.

“No. They’ll meet us there.” She had to call it from the bathroom. She hadn’t slept well during the night, too many things bouncing around in her head. Too many ways this could go wrong.

Bonnie hated that about herself. While she was generally an optimist, sometimes she just couldn’t help but work out all the bad things that could happen. And today, there were quite a few. Seeing as she’d tossed and turned to the wee hours of the morning, she’d been up well before Marceline. At least, she thought she had, the other woman’s light had been on all night too. Maybe she hadn’t slept either.

Once she was dressed she paced back and forth across the living room waiting for Marceline to get ready. She was impatient and anxious at the same time and it was the strangest stomach churning combination she’d ever felt. Her brain was doing too many things at once and it was tired.

“Sheesh,” Marceline said. “Relax, Bonnie. Please, you’re driving _me_ batty.” Then she chuckled as if at a private joke.

“You’re not ready, Marceline,” she snapped. “We’re going to be late.”

“Is your brother going someplace?”

Was he? “Not that I know of.”

“Then relax. Put something on telly, I won’t be long.” She kept grumbling as she tossed her dishes in the sink and slouched off to change out of her pyjamas. 

Grumbling, Bonnie fell onto a beanbag and flicked the television on. She scrolled through the channels for a moment before deciding there was nothing worth her time (read: no documentaries). Heaving herself from the squishy chair, she resumed her pacing. It took her all of a minute to decided that from the island bench in the kitchenette to the back of the sofa was six and a half comfortable steps and another thirty seconds to decide that wasn’t far enough. Plus that little half step at the end kept throwing her off.

She extended her route to the wall where the television was mounted. This increased the distance to nearly nine steps. The little extra still forced her to add a skip at the end. Grumbling, she decided to try again but go all the way to the fridge. At which point, Marceline exploded from the end of the hallway with a bag over her shoulder and a grin on her face.

“The floor’s already polished, Bonnie,” she said cheekily. “You don’t have to do it yourself.” Dressed once more in all black clothes save for her red boots and grey cap, Marceline – it appeared – was at last ready to leave.

“About time,” Bonnibel growled. She stalked past the dining table, snatched up her keys and bag before marching out the door. Marceline barely made it through as Bonnie slammed it on her heels. “I did say it’d take an hour didn’t I?”

“You did. But we have all day.”

In a flash, Bonnie was struck by a feeling of guilt. Marceline had agreed to this to satisfy the curiosity of her friends. But Bonnie hadn’t given any thought to plans the other woman might have made.

“This didn’t… conflict with something you wanted to do… did it?” she asked hesitantly.

Of all things, Marceline gave her a reassuring look. “No, thanks though. I was going to meet my brother later today. He lives across town too. Apparently he’s moved in with this prudish fellow who doesn’t have any alcohol in the apartment. He was very upset.” She grinned again. “I’d like to meet the dude who can stare down Marshall. He must be really something.”

Bonnie didn’t want to reply. She just wanted the day to be over. Then she could pretend she didn’t care about the other woman and they could stop being friendly. She didn’t want to be friends. And Rain could think what she wanted about that.

The drive was, as expected, obscenely long. It was only made more so by the stretched silences that filled the cab. Marceline wore her perpetual half-smile, but made no effort to engage in a conversation. But Bonnie hated awkward silences.

“So where are you from?” she asked at last. Cities were the worst; they were full of traffic lights and arrogant, selfish drivers. Traffic lights were boring. She drummed her fingers on the wheel, wanting desperately to have something to do. Normally while she was driving she’d play a voiced recording of some theoretical paper, but she figured that wouldn’t go down too well with Marceline the musician.

Surprisingly, Marceline did actually answer her question. And the response was surprising too. Or… maybe not if she thought about it hard enough. “Been a lot of places,” she said with a shrug. “Originally… well I was born in England, lived there a long time. Went to America a few years back and stayed a _really_ long time. Only just moved to Australia. Family visits and so forth. Haven’t seen my dad since I left England. Got some other friends here too.” Well… that at least explained the slight accent. She sounded southern. “What about you?”

“Been here my whole life,” Bonnie replied, pulling up at yet _another_ red light. “I go out to the countryside sometimes to visit family. My parents live just outside town. But my brother and I boarded here in town. We sort of graduated from one institution and moved in to the next campus straight away.” She shrugged this time. “When he got a job he moved out of our apartment to be closer.”

Marceline bobbed her head, fingers moving as if playing an instrument. She kept glancing at the radio. “Ugh, look. Can I just turn on the radio? Please? How can you bear to sit in a quiet car?” She shuddered.

Bonnie lifted one eyebrow, smiling slightly. “Yeah go ahead. You might want to eject the CD that’s in there though.”

From the cheeky grin on her face again, Bonnie guessed she wouldn’t eject the CD. Consequently, the soft voice of a doctor in neurophysics filled the car. It was a lecture on brain function and its networks that she’d attended when a guest speaker had visited the university nearby. She loved listening to it, everything made sense when there was science involved.

“Ah!” Marceline exclaimed, hastily pressing eject. She did it a few times just to be sure. “What was that?”

“A theory on higher brain function and related diseases,” Bonnie explained. “I told you to eject it.” 

Marceline pulled a face. “You listen to _lectures_ in the car? Wow. That’s just… wow.” With one long finger and her thumb, Marceline adjusted the tuning knob on the radio until she found a station she liked. “That is way sad, Bonnie. You need to get out more.”

Despite the words, Bonnie felt that Marceline hadn’t meant it badly. Sort of like an observation.

“Yes I do. Music isn’t really my thing.”

The look on Marceline’s face as she said that was one of pure and unrestrained horror. “How dare you speak such filthy words,” the pale woman said, appalled. “You take them back. I’ll rinse your mouth out with soap.”

“I’ve never found music to be very… stimulating.”

“You just haven’t found the right songs yet.” Bonnie glanced over at her, suddenly worried. The smile she usually wore – the cocky one – was gone, replaced by something else. The corners of her mouth were still quirked up, but it was more a look of determination than anything else. As if she’d just accepted a challenge and was determined to see it through. 

“What are you thinking?” Bonnie asked apprehensively.

“I’m going to find music you like,” Marceline announced happily. “And revolutionise your way of seeing the world.” She shook her head, still shocked by what Bonnie had said. “Life just isn’t worth living without music, Bonnie. It’s just not.”

Despite trying her very best not to like the other woman, her tenacity for the remainder of the trip was endearing. Marceline scoured every station the radio picked up; trying to find a song Bonnibel would appreciate. She failed. But that didn’t throw Marceline off; she claimed the only reason Bonnie didn’t like any of that music was because it was ‘stale, money making, pop tunes’.

“Well,” Marceline sighed, leaning back in her chair. “If you can’t find it already in circulation, make it yourself.” She grinned as they pulled up outside the small house Bonnie’s brother shared with his roommate. “Hey,” she snapped upright. “That’s where my brother lives!”


	4. A Silly Little Song

It was a modest affair really, just a small white-washed plaster board house, big enough for two people. Nestled snugly between almost identical houses on either side with quaint picket fences separating them, with grass mown to her brother’s demanding standards and bushes pruned back lining the fence and path, it was nothing if not picturesque. However, Bonnibel wasn’t paying the house a great deal of attention, she was too busy staring slack-jawed at her roommate.

“This house?” Bonnie asked, jerking her thumb at the place they were idling in front of. “This one right here?”

Marceline rolled her eyes. “Yeah this one. Pull into the drive already, you never know when someone will come through and you’re blocking _the whole street._ ”

Still spluttering, Bonnie turned the car up the paved drive and the car shuddered silent. For a moment she just sat there with Marceline’s curious eyes on her. Then, taking a deep breath, she launched out of the car, hesitantly, her roommate followed.

“That’s crazy,” Bonnibel grumbled. “Do you have any idea what the odds are that your brother moved in with mine?” Her pitch had risen all the way through that so that by the end it was rather shrill. 

“No. But I have a feeling you do,” Marceline teased. She was already walking along the path to the house. “Even if I don’t care.”

“It’s like… obscene odds.” Bonnie hurried after her. “ _Obscene_. The chances are almost none.”

“Clearly not. Besides, I needed a place and I found you. Marshall needed a place and he found your brother.” She shrugged. “It can’t be that weird. Just a funny coincidence.”

Bonnie folded her arms and frowned. That smile never even wavered. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Marceline.”

“Maybe you should start.” Marceline rang the doorbell three times and then turned back to face Bonnibel. “There’re a lot of unexplainable things in the world, Bonnie. Supernatural things, magic and the like. You shouldn’t be so narrow minded.”

“There’s no such thing as magic,” she mumbled. 

Before Marceline could respond (and it would’ve been a real doozy from the smile canted on her face) the door opened. Her brother, Robert, filled the frame. His usually tidy blonde hair was somewhat ruffled, as if he’d just woken up; he wasn’t wearing his glasses either and had to squint to make out who it was. Even his collared white shirt and tan slacks were rumpled.

“Elle!” he exclaimed, dark green eyes widening as he recognised her. Robert stepped to one side allowing her through. “Been a long time. I didn’t expect you to be able to find the time to spare from your hectic schedule.”

“Ha, ha,” she said dryly. Bonnie slipped her shoes off and slid them under the hat stand before entering the house proper. Marceline was still on the stoop, the toes of her shoes pressed against the sill. She watched the exchange with dark eyes; her smile wasn’t quite to its usual vibrancy. She appeared to be waiting for something.

“Who’s this?” Robert asked, lifting one eyebrow in Marceline’s direction.

“My new roommate.”

His eyes widened. “Oh! Come in, come in. No friend of my sister’s will stand outside all day. I’m Robert.” He grinned and stuck out his hand enthusiastically, but he still seemed tired.

Now Marceline stepped through, kicking her shoes off the same as Bonnie had done, smirk and all. “Pleasure to meet you, Robert. The name’s Marceline.” She shook the hand offered and strolled past them both, already snooping about. “Nice place.”

“ _Marcy_?”

They all froze in the living room; Marceline already half lowered into a sofa, as another fellow came bounding through from the kitchen wielding a butter knife coated in… something. He was not as broad in the shoulders, or as tall as Robert, but lanky and lean like his sister. They had the same shock of pitch black hair and the same deep, dark eyes. Even their smiles were the same: wonky and impish. Unlike his not-quite-but-almost-monochrome sister, Marshall was wearing a grey and red plaid shirt, top three buttons undone, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, blue jeans (still tattered, must be a taste they shared) and simple high tops. He was just as pale though.

“Hey Marshall,” she replied brightly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Marshall didn’t seem to know whether to be excited about his sister’s unexpected visit or just stunned. His face seemed to be leaping between both expressions quite rapidly. In the end, excitement won over and he bounced to his sister and threw his arms around her.

“Marceline!” He had a deep voice, but in that moment, it was more of a shriek still. “I didn’t realise you were in town.”

“You dolt,” she said, slapping him away. “I got my stuff from storage yesterday. Don’t you check your emails?”

Marshall looked sheepish at that and hunched his shoulders. “Um… no.” He waved his hands; forestalling anything else Marceline might have to say. “Dude, why are you even here? Who’s your friend?”

Marceline blinked, momentarily forgetting what she was doing here. “Oh, this is Bonnie. She graciously put me up.” Her grin was back and blinding as ever. “She dragged me out here today to meet her brother and some friends.”

“No way,” Marshall cried. “Rob is her brother? That’s way weird.” He grabbed his sister’s arm. “Lemme show you around, huh?” She sighed, but let him drag her off.

“When are the others getting here, Elle?” Rob asked her once the other two had vanished into another room. He sank into one of the chairs and patted the spot next to him. Bonnie noticed that a television had replaced the artwork that used to hang in his living space. Its flat black screen reflecting the hallway behind them, the direction Marceline and Marshall had wandered off in. It wasn’t particularly engrossing, staring at it, but it remained off. Neither she nor Rob had ever watched a great deal of television.

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Bonnie admitted. “I didn’t tell them when to arrive. They’ll be here before lunch though I’m sure.” Rain at least wouldn’t want to dawdle. 

“And… uh…” he jerked his head behind him. “Is she alright as a roommate? Not too crazy?”

Surprising herself, Bonnibel smiled. “Nah, she’s okay. Different, but okay. Not the worst by far.”

“And she’s a girl.”

“Yes, that’ll make dad happy.” Her father was very much against either of his children living with a member of the opposite gender. Apparently it was ‘too forward’. She sighed. Her parents were so conservative that she was mostly glad to have spent so much time away from them.

Bonnibel continued to stare at the reflection in the television screen. The hall behind her was empty, painted white just like every other room in the house and had three doors leading off it; two bedrooms and a bathroom. She could see into the end room (a bedroom) because the door was open a crack. From the mess on the floor, it was probably Marshall’s; her brother was too meticulous to leave things lying around. As she watched, the door opened up further, then swung shut, the handle bobbing slightly in what must have been a breeze. A baby piano was behind her as well, it had once been in the corner where a stereo system had gone in; more of Marshall’s handiwork.

Suddenly the couch beside her dipped and Marshall was right next to her, grinning. Bonnie frowned; how had he gotten there? She’d been watching down the hall the whole time. Maybe there was another way through, a side door perhaps.

“So, Bonnie,” he said through a smile just as blinding as Marceline’s. “Marcy says you’re a geek. What do you geek out too?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know… what music do you listen to?”

She opened her mouth to explain that music wasn’t something she had a great deal of time for, but Marceline beat her to it. “She doesn’t do music, Mar,” she said teasingly. “She listens to old dudes talk about science stuff.”

His mouth dropped. “We need to fix this.” He leapt to his feet, still on the couch, then swung himself over the back of the chair. “Marcy get the piano.”

“I am _not_ playing,” Marceline huffed, crossing her arms.

“Dude. Come on. Your roommate is a tight-wad like mine. Let’s educate them.” 

Bonnie and Rob exchanged glances and twisted in their seats to watch Marshall race into his room. _I’m a tight-wad, huh_? Bonnibel thought to herself. She glared at Marceline but the other woman just slouched into the seat, sulking, ignoring them all.

Marshall came back down the hall with a guitar in his hands and the most pathetic pleading look on his face. “Come on, Marceline,” he whined. “ _Please_?”

She glowered at her brother. “I don’t want to.” Yet she made the mistake of looking up at his big eyes and sighed. “Fine,” she grumbled, jerking to her feet. “One song. But no Beethoven. You know that man annoys me. Hack.”

Marshall beamed and launched into a song that neither of the Bubblegum siblings could identify. He didn’t tell them either, just played. It took Marceline a moment to catch up, but then her long fingers danced across the piano keys like the wind through leaves. Regardless that Bonnibel didn’t spend much time enjoying music (and that Marceline had so far failed to find anything she did like), she quite enjoyed their music. They both looked so wrapped up in it, as though simply by making sounds they were transported to another dimension. Grumpy Marceline even smiled.

That’s when the door burst open and Finn charged through with Jake and Rain hot on his heels. The Abadeer’s didn’t even flinch; it was as if they hadn’t noticed. They just played to the end of the song, and by the time they reached it, Bonnie’s three friends had calmed down a bit. Rain seemed rather impressed.

“I’m not playing anymore, alright, Marshall.” Marceline slammed the top of the piano down harder than she needed to. “I hate playing for people.”

Marshall sneered. “You were in a band for–” he cut off, realising more people had joined them. The harsh scowl Marceline shot him probably didn’t hurt either. That look could have melted iron.

Finn waved happily. “Hey I’m Finn,” he proclaimed. “This is my brother Jake and his girlfriend Rain.” He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Marshall, disregarding his sister’s glare, took the hand and shook it vigorously. “Pleasure. My name’s Marshall and that grump-lump is my sister, Marceline.”

“You play really well,” Jake said, his turn to shake hands. “More talent than the band I play with.”

“You’re musical?” Marceline asked, sitting up straighter.

He laughed. “Yeah, viola mostly. I can do the flute too though. Don’t tell anyone; it’s a _girly_ instrument.”

Marceline cackled at that and her smile returned. “I won’t disagree with that. And you must be Rain?”

Bonnie’s friend bobbed her head. “That’s me. You’re Bonnie’s roommate, right? What are the odds that you’d be matched up; sibling for sibling?”

A wry twist soured Marceline’s smile. “We’ve discussed that already. It’s just a crazy coincidence.”

“Pretty crazy,” Rain replied softly with eyebrows raised. “So, Bub, how’ve you been?”

Bub, Robert hated that name, but that’s what pretty much everyone called him. Bubba, it was a long standing joke that started as a play on ‘Bob’. That was before the cheerleaders at their high school had taken to calling him ‘Hubba Bubba’. It had frustrated him no end, but always made Bonnie smile. It made Marshall and Marceline grin too, exchanging mischievous glances. He was going to cop it later.

The afternoon vanished in a haze of laughter and friendly arguments. Marceline made a point of disagreeing with pretty much everything Rob said. If he’d been a cat, his fur would’ve been bristling. He was so angry that he stormed off more than once and came back with baking: a peace offering, he’d call it.

They moved out onto the patio late in the day because Finn wanted a bonfire. Rain was sceptical, as usual, always trying to consider their safety before everything else. But she was outvoted when Jake, Marshall and Marceline sided with Finn. They spent a few hours making what they proclaimed to be ‘the biggest-ass bonfire to ever have existed in all of history’. Rain was sceptical of that too. But despite having spent the afternoon the brunt of their jokes, even Rob joined in.

“So are the two of you friends yet?” asked Rain, nodding at Marceline. The sun had just set, pink light still flaring above the horizon, but all the others had gone to sit around the fire and tell silly stories. Or make awful jokes.

Bonnibel sighed. “I don’t know Rain. Why do we have to be friends?”

“You live together,” she said flatly. “Wouldn’t it be beneficial to _like_ her somewhat?”

“Probably.”

She proceeded to ignore Rain’s pointed gaze for a few minutes. Just watching the sparks flying away was soothing, but it’s hard to ignore Rain forever. Especially when she started poking Bonnie in the ribs.

“Alright, she’s not awful,” Bonnibel conceded waspishly. “Maybe we could be friends. She jokes around a lot, but she’s alright.”

Satisfied, Rain stopped pestering her. For the moment at least. They’d be having this same conversation for the next two weeks. She checked her watch and was horrified at how late it had gotten.

“I have to go,” she announced, standing. Rain’s face was a mixture of shock and disappointment. It was a combination she wore quite a lot. That and concern. “I can’t slack off all weekend Rain. I do have things that are important.”

Rain sighed. “You never have things that aren’t important.” They walked over to the massive blaze in silence although Bonnie could tell that there was something Rain wanted to say.

“I’m going,” Bonnie told them, silencing the story Marshall was telling. Something far-fetched about him being a pirate having a sword fight with Blackbeard on a sinking ship. “I have work to do tomorrow and I have to get some sleep. Marceline you can come with me or stay the night, I don’t care, but I’m leaving now.”

Of all the reactions Marceline could have had, pouting wasn’t what Bonnie had expected. Then she sighed and clambered to her feet. “Gotta cut the party short, dontcha, Bon?” She stretched and then slouched off to find her shoes. “Whatever, let’s bounce then.” Rain hurried after her, whispering something in the other woman’s ear.

Rob also hauled himself up. “You can stay the night you know,” he said, walking with her to the front of the house. The other boys sat where they were and Marshall resumed his adventure with much hand waving.

She shook her head. “No, Bub, I can’t. I have to get this research paper done for my research project and if I don’t do it tomorrow I’ll just die. I should have finished it today.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m much more important than your papers, Elle and you know it. Besides, it was nice to meet your roommate.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “It _is_ pretty weird they’re siblings too.”

“Twins,” Rob added. “Same as us. Small world.”

Marceline was already sulking in the front passenger seat when they arrived. Bonnie slid into the seat and started the ignition. “I’ll see you soon, Bub,” she told him. “In two weeks I should have some time off to visit again.”

“Don’t work yourself too hard,” he said. The tone was forced and not as cheerful as he must have hoped. He sounded worried.

Bonnie just waved and they drove off. The ride home was much the same as the one out had been only now Bonnie felt guilt gnawing at her stomach. She hadn’t done any work all damn day.

“Cheer up, would you, Bon,” said Marceline, fiddling with the radio again. “Not everything has to be tedium you know. You _are_ allowed to have fun once in a while.”

“What did Rain say to you?”

Cheeky half smile in hand, Marceline laughed. “She wants me to make sure you don’t work too hard. Apparently you have a tendency to do stupid things like… not eat. Or sleep.”

“Great,” Bonnie said, hunching over the steering wheel. “Now she’s got you to nag me too.”

Marceline shrugged. “Oh I’m sure I won’t be that bad. I’ll just make sure you have those three important meals every day.”

It was nearly silent for the rest of the trip and when they finally made it back to their apartment, all Bonnie could do was flop face first onto her bed and lie there. Not that she could sleep anyway. She was too worried about having done nothing all day. What a waste.

She was about to get up and start something when a soft sound echoed from across the hall. It was low and deep, digging into her chest; but smooth and gentle at the same time. A paradox in her ears. Marceline was playing her bass. Bonnie felt all the tension ooze out of her as the music washed over her. This was a song she liked.

It was to this sound that she fell asleep. A proper sleep. Without nightmares or guilt ridden panic attacks. She smiled.


	5. Don’t Know What You Were Thinking

“Please tell me that’s a well-rested face.”

Marceline grinned and poked Bonnie in the shoulder. She was obnoxiously awake and it was already grating. Bonnie slapped the offending finger and groaned into her tea.

“This is a well-rested face that’s dreading today,” Bonnibel mumbled. “I should have done work yesterday. Now I’m going to be overloaded.” She sank further into her chair, still marvelling at how clean the dining table was.

Marceline leaned back and stared at her, limbs sprawled everywhere, a plastic spoon dangling from her mouth. “Well, you can work to your heart’s content this morning,” she said, grinning. It was too early for a smile that bright. “But this afternoon I need you to pay me back for yesterday.”

Bonnie groaned. “Oh god what?” she mumbled. 

“You dragged me to meet your friends,” Marceline clarified. “And I don’t have a car. So I need you to drive me somewhere, ok? No biggie.”

“Where?”

“Just to the mall, I need to buy a few things.” She pulled the spoon from her mouth with a sucking sound and chucked it over her shoulder where it clattered across the rim of the bin before sliding in. “Plastic cutlery, some new guitar picks, blank discs, you know… stuff.” She grinned.

“What do you need plastic cutlery for?” Bonnie asked, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t use the metal variety,” Marceline explained with a wave of one hand. “Call it a stupid quirk.” 

She doesn’t use metal cutlery… Weird. Bonnie wondered why briefly, but it was probably just one of those things that people do. Those inexplicable things. Still, part of her was put out by the request and wanted to say no. Marceline didn’t have a car though so as a roommate it was probably good manners. She sighed.

“Fine, I’ll take you to the mall,” she grumbled. “But it’ll be a quick trip around one. I’m not going to battle after-school craziness for you.”

Marceline just kept smiling.

 

*

 

As it turns out, Marceline wasn’t the most annoying person ever. Not really, she came close though. She made a point of playing her music loudly, popping in to grin and then disappear in a cloud of hair. She would occasionally barge in and slap headphones down around Bonnie’s ears, blaring a song at her, wondering if that one was alright. After Bonnie slapped her hands away the seventh time and glared Marceline didn’t do it again. Well, she didn’t do it again before lunch anyway. And when midday rolled around Marceline appeared in the doorway to make sure Bonnie ate. 

So it wasn’t as bad as it would’ve been if Rain had been there, but it was still pretty annoying. And when the clock chimed 1pm, Marceline swung through the doorway, hanging onto the frame with one hand supporting nearly all her weight. She was prompt when she wanted to be.

“Time to go, Bonnie,” she sang happily. “Let’s go!”

Bonnibel ignored her for a few minutes. Her smile went from blinding to more of a pout whereupon she evidently got sick of the stalling and hauled Bonnie to her feet. She exhibited extraordinary tenacity and single mindedness when she wanted something.

“Let’s go,” she whined. “The sooner we go, the sooner we get back. I’ll even buy something for dinner as a thank you. How’s that?”

“Ugh, fine, already,” Bonnie groaned. Marceline didn’t let go of her arm though, just dragged her down the hall. “Alright, leave off, we’re going.” She shrugged out of the grip and grabbed her bag, slipped on some shoes and was hustled outside by her impatient roommate.

The mall wasn’t far and in the middle of the day, there wasn’t even any traffic. Her car smelt of sunscreen though. It wasn’t a gross scent, but it was weird. 

“What’s with the sunscreen?” she finally asked. It was a pretty safe assumption that it was Marceline. Bonnie wasn’t wearing any.

Marceline sank as far into the seat as she could, she was wearing a broad brimmed hat today and long sleeves despite the growing heat. Jeans too, the woman was a freak. How could she stand to be wearing clothes like that now? Spring was nearly non-existent in Australia, it sort of jumped straight out of the end of winter into summer.

“Pale skin, Bonnie,” Marceline said, forcing a smile. “The sun disagrees with my complexion. I burn easily.”

“Yeah me too,” she said. “But I don’t cover up as much as you. I didn’t even know I _had_ sunscreen.” It was actually nice that it was just past midday, the car park at the mall was almost deserted.

“Just habit.”

She parked facing away from the mall but didn’t get out. “I’ll just wait. You won’t be long will you?”

“Probably,” Marceline grouched, getting out. She walked around the front of the car even though it would’ve been faster to go behind it. “It’ll be hot in the car.” She pointed at a café across the street; it was… not the kind of place Bonnie would usually go to. “Just go sit yourself over there and I’ll meet you in a bit.” Her smile reappeared as she headed off.

Something didn’t seem right and Bonnie looked in the rear-view mirror, but Marceline was already gone. Must’ve been nothing. Honestly, she meant to do exactly what Marceline had said, but she got distracted walking past the bookstore. Bonnie promised herself she’d only duck in for a few moments, but… yeah that’s not how it ended up.

It must have been at least two hours later when Marceline appeared at her elbow, hat in one hand, grin plastered across her face, eyes sparkling in the low light. “I said go to the café,” she chuckled. “How long have you been here?”

Blood rushed into Bonnie’s cheeks. “The whole time,” she whispered. “I didn’t like the look of the café.” That was only part of it, and from the cheeky look Marceline got, she knew it. Marceline just kept laughing softly. In a bizarre twist, Bonnie actually managed to walk out of the store without buying something and when she saw the bags piled in the back of her car she was thankful for it.

“Did you buy the whole supermarket?” she all but screeched. There had to be several hundred dollars’ worth of food on the backseat and more in the trunk. Plus the miscellany that Marceline had said she was going out for in the first place. “I hope you have a job to pay for all this.”

Marceline shrugged. “Whatever. Money’s not really the problem.” She rubbed the side of her neck. “I guess I didn’t think about how small your fridge is.”

Oh yes, that was a problem too. Simple physics: that amount of food would not fit in the fridge, not enough space. But Marceline shrugged it off and drew her over to the café anyway where they had afternoon tea. Marceline claimed that she was trying to find the best strawberry tart in the world. These little dirty stores that people didn’t frequent a great deal were ‘gold mines’ she said. And much as the décor threw Bonnie off, they did have lovely tarts.

Once home, hauling the bags up to the apartment was an onerous task in and of itself. Some surprising things appeared during the process as well. Including a box wrapped in brown paper that was nearly as tall as Bonnie was. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent from asking what it contained. Marceline only grinned slyly at her when she realised what Bonnie was thinking.

As it turned out, the food didn’t all fit in the fridge. Some of it spilled out into cupboards and even the pantry overflowed. Bonnie kept shooting anxious glances at the perishables, but Marceline would only shrug and say it’d all be eaten before it went bad. Rifling through the bags, Bonnie found the docket and her eyes got progressively bigger as they ran down the list of foodstuffs printed on it in pale grey letters. By the time she reached the bottom and read the total they were as wide as saucers, big green saucers full of disbelief.

“Marceline,” she murmured. “This says the food cost nearly _five hundred_ dollars.” Her hand shook. She didn’t eat that much food in a month. “We’ll never get through it, half will be thrown out!” Such a waste.

“Challenge accepted, Bonnie,” Marceline called from her room where she was stealthily unboxing whatever that paper wrapped item had been. “Stop worrying so much, you’ll get an ulcer. I guarantee it’ll be gone in a few days.” There was a metallic screeching and a pleased grunt. “Now get in here, I have something to show you.”

Biting down on her tongue, Bonnie pocketed the docket and shuffled down the hall. She’d show that to her brother, he’d never believe it. No one could go through that much food. She poked her head into Marceline’s room and her jaw dropped.

A little piano… keyboard? She wasn’t sure what the proper term was. Either way, it was sitting in the middle of Marceline’s room, plugged into the wall and Marceline’s fingers were playing a soft melody across the keys.

“What?” Bonnie had no idea how to frame her question. “Why?”

Marceline turned her million-gigawatt smile on Bonnie. “Because you don’t understand music and _I’m_ going to teach you. Someone has to. It’s a crime against… everything that you don’t music.”

Bonnie frowned now, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe. She tried to put on her best cynical expression but it wasn’t one she pulled out a great deal and she was rusty. “You’re going to teach me how to play the piano?”

“This is a keyboard, Bon,” she explained. “It’s electric; it can play any sound you like. But yes. I’m going to teach you.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment, you know that?” Bonnie said, a smile threatening to break out across her face no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. 

“I just like a challenge.”

“You’re an idiot.”


	6. More Than I Should

True to her word, Marceline made it her problem that Bonnie didn’t understand anything vaguely musical. She made Bonnie take time from her schedule to practice playing on the keyboard. Despite profound objections at first, Bonnibel was enjoying it immensely and she was even getting good at playing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’, something she was hugely proud of. There had still been no progress in finding her music to listen to though and Marceline made every effort there too.

Also as promised, the food was gone in a little over four days. Not a single item had passed its ‘best by’ date and nothing had been thrown out. It was freakish, incredible and Bonnie couldn’t help but be impressed. Despite being darkly dressed almost always, despite her Cheshire smile that made Bonnie shiver because it bordered on creepy, Marceline was the brightest person she’d ever known. She was blinding.

Marceline was the sun; by which, Bonnie means she found them both equally irritating. She hated the sun for its ability to burn her pale skin in five minutes flat and she disliked Marceline (she refused to say she hated someone) for her easy way of distracting her. With her striking smile, laid back attitude and ability to make Bonnie’s skin tingle, she was just like that giant ball of gas she loathed so much. They were the same, right down to their gravitational forces; in the exact same way the Earth couldn’t pull away from the sun, Bonnie found herself inexplicably grounded by the other woman. And she could never stay mad for long. The smile was the least of it though; there was just something about her that made Bonnie’s anger melt and flow away, like ice-cream on a hot day.

It bugged her that Marceline could smile and she’d smile too. It bothered her that when Marceline said she’d been working too hard and she needed a break she no longer complained. She liked that damn woman far too much. It was interfering with her work. But that wasn’t even the worst part; the worst bit was that she didn’t care. She enjoyed being interrupted, dragged places, forced out of her comfort zone, made to try new things. Bonnie didn’t even mind the time Marceline stole from her to make her practice music. It took up a larger chunk of every day than she should let it, but she didn’t care. She enjoyed that too.

She even enjoyed that nocturnal nimrod playing her bass into the depths of the evening because it put her to sleep. It was the most frustrating clash of interests she’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

And it _was_ a pleasure.

 

*

 

Nearly two months after that irritating woman had moved in with her and despite furious protestations and silent resolutions, Bonnie liked her. Much to Rain’s glee, they were friends. Bonnie no longer found it an imposition to drive Marceline to her brother’s. She no longer found it odd when she’d wake up some mornings and find the kitchen completely devoid of food and she no longer minded going shopping to restock. Bonnie didn’t mind getting dragged to dingy little restaurants and cafés, not even the ones that had façades of questionable repute or signs so dirty from neglect that the names weren’t legible. She didn’t mind. But she felt like she should.

Yet there were things that bothered her, a few, but not insignificant. Why did Marceline eat so much? And how, having consumed another few hundred dollars’ worth of food, did she manage to _not_ be absurdly obese? Marceline refused to do seemingly insignificant things; she had strange quirks that Bonnie just couldn’t reconcile. Why, when Bonnie was driving, would she not walk around the back of the car, or stop by a door? Why didn’t she just drive herself? Why did she always lock the bathroom door, even when it was just to clean her teeth? She never used a mirror or proper metal utensils. It was downright bizarre and Bonnie didn’t have the foggiest why she might behave like that.

Part of her wanted to treat her new friend as an experiment, a particularly stubborn one. But that felt wrong, so all she ended up doing was spending hours late at night researching types of diseases or conditions that might explain at least some of it. OCD was the most likely candidate, but even that couldn’t quite explain away her tendency to stay up late at night, coat herself in sunscreen whenever she went out in the middle of the day or even her fascination with hats and plastic cutlery. None of it made any sense. She wasn’t allergic to anything that Bonnie had been able to find out, but that didn’t mean a damn thing.

There was only one conclusion to be had that didn’t border on absurd: Marceline was weird. Very weird, in fact. But without venturing into the supernatural or superstitious explanations, that was the only one that her brain would accept.

Bonnibel didn’t like mentions of ‘magic’ or ‘monsters’, as far as she was concerned, they didn’t exist. There was no such thing as wizards or dragons or (God forbid) other such monstrosities as had become quite popular in culture; vampires and werewolves for example. Easy as it would be to label Marceline a vampire and move on, that was ridiculous. She ate regular food for a start, albeit a great deal of it.

And yet… no. It was stupid. She shuffled her papers, having finally concluded a research project that had taken her the better part of a fortnight. Bonnie pressed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and yawned mightily. Her watch read 11.37pm, it was late and she’d been up at similar times for nearly a week. Time for bed.

But first, she had to find out why there was no music coming from Marceline’s room. Every single night there were sounds from in there, but not tonight. It was just strange enough to warrant an investigation. Surprisingly, the room was dark; Marceline wasn’t there. Blinking around her grainy eyes, Bonnie headed down the hall.

Apparently the lounge chair was a fold out bed and it was currently sprawled across the living room. Marceline was lying, propped up on her elbows, at one end watching a movie and – Bonnie noted with wry surprise – eating. Legs bent at the knees she seemed completely engrossed in the movie, which was horror by the look of it. What a shocker. The volume was turned down low but that didn’t seem to matter. Honestly, Marceline had the best hearing of anyone ever.

“Come on, dork,” Marceline said, smiling as she looked over. “Park yourself. I have popcorn.” She patted the bed next to her with one hand and gestured at a massive bowl with the other.

“I don’t like horror movies, Marceline,” Bonnie replied with a frown. “You know that.” Marceline had tried to get her to watch some scary film about chainsaws a few weeks ago. Bonnibel hadn’t seen more than fifteen minutes before she couldn’t take it. Not her genre.

“I can change it. What do you wanna watch?” She bounced from the bed and grabbed a pile of cases. “We could totally watch some sappy romance. You like them right?” Marceline grinned and Bonnie felt suddenly defensive. She did _not_ like sappy romance movies.

“You don’t even own one,” Bonnie retorted. Then she shrugged, flopping down onto the bed. “Whatever, just not horror. I won’t stay awake to the end anyway.”

Marceline grimaced. “Then why bother? I could just keep watching my scary movie and you’d have to deal with it.” Her face twisted into another smile. “As the party least likely to see the whole movie, you forfeit the right to complain.”

“Shut up and put something else in.”

Still smiling cheekily, Marceline slid in a disc that she kept carefully hidden from Bonnie. “If you’re going to be so vague, then I’m going to pick something awful.” Marceline bounded onto the bed and elbowed Bonnie in the ribs, snatching the remote away from her. She pushed the oversized bowl of popcorn at Bonnie but she just shook her head. Having already cleaned her teeth and anticipating sleep any second now, there was no way Bonnibel was going to eat anything. “Suit yourself.”

It was with baited breath that Bonnie waited through the opening credits. Then she sighed. Zombies. It wasn’t a relief so much as the fact that it could’ve been much worse. She let her elbows go out from underneath her and collapsed flat, Marceline just watched her with those sparkling eyes. The smile made her shiver. Her eyes were mesmerising, laughing and a brown so dark they were almost black, never wavering, staring.

Bonnibel’s throat clenched unreasonably and her face felt flushed. The smile at the corners of Marceline’s mouth twitched. It was unbearable. She ripped her gaze away and pressed her face into the bed. Her heart felt altogether too heavy and thumped uncomfortably at her rib cage. Weird.

The bed shifted beneath her and cool fingers wrapped around her wrist sending lightning along her arm. Bonnie bit her bottom lip to stifle a gasp. She wasn’t sure why the touch affected her, maybe because Marceline’s skin was so cold. Yeah, that’d be it.

She looked up as Marceline lifted her hand and twisted it slightly to read the numbers on her watch. Her smile thinned a little at the time but flared back up so quickly Bonnie wasn’t sure she’d seen it fade. She reached behind her and snagged a pillow, thrusting it at Bonnibel.

“Go to sleep, dork,” she said. Her tone was soft, almost fond. That look was back in her eyes too, they looked… _shimmery_ for lack of a better word. Bonnie’s stomach did a backflip.

She made to get up, planning to head into her room to sleep, but that slow smile on Marceline’s face flashed and a hand shot out. Marceline grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled her back down to the bed. She was so tired she didn’t care, although the heat in the pit of her stomach fluttered wildly as Marceline held her down and Bonnie tried to tell her frustrating friend to let her go.

But her eyelids were already sliding closed and Marceline’s smile was the least of her worries. The warmth bubbling in her stomach wasn’t even on her mind, but that look in Marceline’s eyes… there was something to it. Bonnie’s brain was going to work out what eventually; she just wasn’t sure whether she wanted to know. Or maybe she did, her heart fluttered and she clutched the pillow closer, _very_ conscious of Marceline lying beside her.

The television kept whispering about the movie, and she yawned again. Bonnie pressed her face into the pillow and curled up, glad it was a warm night and the lack of sheets on the bed wouldn’t bother her. She was vaguely aware not long after of the movie being switched off, darkness cloaking the room and something cool winding around her waist. It was reassuring and comfortable, sleep was easy and deep, a feeling of weightlessness and warmth in her heart provided a soft smile. It felt… right.


	7. Put Aside the Math and the Logic

Sunlight filtered in the high window, playing with funny shapes across the ceiling, but the drawn curtains prevented more from creeping in. A light weight rested across her hips and despite not really wanting to wake up, Bonnie opened her eyes. She was still on the fold-out bed in the lounge, the bowl of popcorn that Marceline hadn’t quite finished had toppled off the bed to the floor, scattering food all over the place. And Marceline herself was still curled up beside her, sleeping with her mouth open slightly and one arm draped over Bonnie’s hips. The other arm was folded like a pillow beneath her head.

She looked so peaceful asleep like this. There was no mischievous grin, no teasing in her eyes, it was so easy to forget how easily she frustrated Bonnie. For a moment, Bonnibel simply watched her, heart pounding just a little too hard, that unusual fizzing in her stomach again, a tightness in her chest. She shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to dwell on it overly much. Bonnie turned her attention elsewhere, forced it onto something other than her internal turmoil.

Marceline’s dark hair pooled across the mattress, in the low morning light she looked exceptionally pale. Unhealthily so, although Bonnie supposed she always looked pale, but right now, she was a grey so pallid it was definitely not normal. And a mark on her neck stood out slightly from the rest, somewhat darker and slightly shiny. A little jagged line down low on her neck, just where it met the trapezius muscle; it was possibly positioned over a carotid artery (the internal ones maybe?) or perhaps above the external jugular. It was hard to say, and probably not all that important, but the scar was quite prominent, remnant of some deep wound that might have been fatal if it _had_ hit an artery. The scarring was faint, so an old injury, but once it had been puckered and it was still ragged around the edges in its slightly curving path across the skin. It was altogether quite an odd scar.

Another oddity presented itself as Marceline stirred slightly: her ears. Hair fell away revealing ends drawn to a point. Bonnie blinked; they looked similar to how elves are often depicted. She knew from research into analogous topics that such occurrences as pointed ears are not uncommon or even unusual, but it was still weird. Tentatively, she reached one hand out to touch the end, almost as if to convince herself they were real. Marceline did such a good job of hiding them behind her hair… and yes, they were real.

Marceline’s eyes snapped open. A smile flickered across her lips, that look in her eyes was back, the slow, dark look that made Bonnie’s heart skip a beat. Suddenly self-conscious – and embarrassed to be caught touching her friend’s ears – Bonnie retreated.

“Good morning, Bonnibel.” Something in the way she spoke was off, weird, just as creeping and soft as the shine in her eyes. Bonnie’s mouth was inexplicably dry, her palms moist and there was a heavy weight resting inside her chest that she didn’t like. She tried to roll away, but Marceline grabbed her wrist.

At first, Bonnie worried why, but then Marceline twisted her hand again – as she had done last night – checking the time. Also as last night, electricity ran along her nerves, lightning striking her spine and she shivered, wrenching her hand away. Marceline’s grin broadened as she sat up, stretching and slid off the bed.

“So what’s on your geek timetable today, Bonnie?” she asked heading for the kitchen. Bonnibel decided to overlook the part where Marceline ignored the mess on the floor. She was opening cupboards up, presumably looking for food. She hoped they weren’t out already.

“Nothing much. Once I’ve mailed my paper I’m probably going to hang out with Rain,” Bonnie informed her with a shrug. Everyone had been bugging her about taking a break for weeks now. She might as well give in and get it over with.

“Cool.” Marceline had her head buried in the pantry now. “I’m going out with Marshall and Bubba. Be back here for dinner a’ight? I’ve got a good movie for you.” She backed out with a disappointed expression painted all over her face. It was pitiful.

Bonnie sighed. “I’ll get some cereal while I’m out.” Then she trudged off to get changed, leaving a now beaming Marceline in the kitchen with a lollipop in one cheek. She ate so badly.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

So, maybe she slammed the door on the post box a little harder than she needed to. It made her feel better. So what if she had an expression like a thunder cloud on her face, while not really necessary, that made her feel better also. What was wrong with her?

She kicked a pebble across the footpath and jammed her hands into her pant pockets. Scowling, she stalked off to meet with Rain, wondering how she was going to sort out this… this… _thing_ inside. No… she knew what it was and it was the scariest of thoughts. There was no way she was bringing it up at lunch. No way.

Still grimacing like she had a sour taste in her mouth, she stormed into the little café where she was meeting her friends and dropped into a seat without even bothering to look around. She just glared into the top of the table and wondered how this could have happened. She’d been so resolute in not liking Marceline and now look what had happened. Bonnie shook her head and exhaled heavily. It… hurt.

“What’s got you in a twist, Elle?”

Her eyes whipped up just as Rain was sliding into the seat next to her. Jake and Finn pulled chairs out and flopped down, both of them looked somewhat worried and somewhat happy. It was a bizarre combination that only they could pull off.

“Oh you know…” Bonnie said noncommittally. She shrugged and glanced out the window, arms folded across the table in front of her. Uh-uh, she needed to put on a happy face and play pretend. Rain would be all over her mood otherwise. “Just… Marceline.” It was funny how her heart leapt at the name.

“She keep you up late again?” asked Finn. He pounded a fist into his open palm: an implication that wasn’t hard to understand.

“No… well… a little.” This was stupid. “I was doing work, then we watched a movie… well, she watched a movie and I fell asleep.” Which was true. After a fashion. She felt bad for kind of lying to her friends though, and to be honest, she was lying to herself. This was not healthy, she needed therapy.

Rain peered at her, amber eyes worried. “You need to sleep.”

“You know not too long ago you were telling me I needed to do more ‘fun things’,” Bonnie said, her tone only a little bit more acerbic than she meant it. “Now I need sleep more.” She smiled, trying to take the edge out of her words. It probably didn’t work. “Come on, Rain. I can’t have everything.”

Her friend sighed; the closest she’d ever come to ceding. “Well at least she gets you out of those books sometimes,” Rain mumbled. “You know I worry about you.”

“I know. But I’m fine, I promise.” This time, the smile was completely fake. Fine… bah. All she felt was hollow.

They never did much when they got together, mostly just sat around talking. Sometimes they’d go shopping; occasionally they’d even see a movie. Today they went to the park and sat in the shade under a tree. It was too hot in the sun, but it was a nice day, not a cloud to be seen. Jake had the forethought to bring a picnic basket with snacks and drinks. It was a nice day really, the anxiety in Bonnibel’s stomach even receded to the point where she could almost forget about Marceline. Almost.

She knew that Rain was aware something was up and that troubled her. Rain _never_ left a stone unturned; it was like a sixth sense she had for detecting when Bonnie was evading something. 

When the sun hit its apex they wandered across the park to the pond where an ice-cream stall was set up. It was pleasantly refreshing under the baking late spring sun. Well… there wasn’t really spring in Australia, but it still wasn’t as hot as summer. There was that.

Afternoon faded leaving golden brown light suffusing everything, motes glittered orange and heat lingered defiantly in rocks and bitumen. Slowly, very slowly, the heat of the day was sucked away as dusk settled its glowing wings around them. Now the anxiety wore off and was replaced by anticipation. It wasn’t proper that she should look forward to going home as much as she did.

Bidding her friends a good evening, she hurried only a tad faster than usual to her car. Of course, she stopped at the market on the way back to get cereal; the sugary kind Marceline liked best, as many boxes as she could carry. There were butterflies of all things bounding around inside her as she unlocked the door to their apartment and swung it open. She pondered idly about the night before, then decided that reading into things was ridiculous. It was nothing. Friends, they were friends. Nothing else.

With a metallic clatter and a soft rustling whump she deposited the keys and grocery bags on the table. It had remained relatively uncluttered for two months, a success in and of itself. Marceline burst into the kitchen, grinning madly.

“Oh, Bonnie, thank you!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Bonnibel’s neck. Her breath hitched before Marceline pulled away. “I missed my cereal something fierce.” She beamed and proceeded to fill a bowl. “Glad you’re back, I’ve got just the thing for tonight.” Marceline waggled a finger and shoved a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “Movie and junk food. We’re not eating dinner.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop from smiling like a kid. Her heart galloped in her chest; Marceline’s smile had a strange power over her that she didn’t dislike. But she did have to clench her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.

“What movie?” she asked around a sudden catch in her throat. _Get a hold of yourself, Bonnibel_ , she scolded herself.

But then Marceline’s lips twitched up into that little half-smile that made her chest tighten and tingles run down her spine and she gave up. It was just too hard not to care. So she stopped trying. “You’ll have to wait and see.” Bonnie sat down hard on the lounge, folded back neatly into a chair.

Then, feeling Marceline’s dark eyes on her and not able to stand it, she bounced to her feet and hustled down the hall. A shower would fix everything. Clear her head, set things straight. Yes, that’s what she needed.

The shower didn’t help.

Marceline had already unfolded the couch and set up the television. The side of the bed was strewn with bags, bowls, packets, plates and buckets of junk food. It was quite the assortment and Bonnie wondered where it had come from. It wouldn’t surprise her if Marceline had gone shopping. The woman herself was on her knees, already in pyjamas, bouncing excitedly on the bed, waiting for Bonnibel.

Bonnie eyed the arrangement nervously; this didn’t seem like a good idea. But that didn’t stop Marceline. The woman never seemed to think about things ‘being a _good idea’_ she just did them and to hang with the consequences. She grabbed Bonnie’s wrist and dragged her rather forcefully onto the couch, still smiling.

“Come on, Bonnie,” she chirped. “I know you like to fall asleep in movies, but trust me. This one you’ll want to see through to the end.”

_Trust her_ … That was a novel concept. After so many horror, thriller, zombie infested and otherwise gruesome flicks, Bonnibel was running a little short in that department. It would take something quite incredible to change her mind now.

Marceline reached around her, black hair falling in waves everywhere, to grab the remote and a bag of lollies. Once again her heart skipped a beat, this time from being so close. She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek.

As it turned out, it wasn’t so bad. Once the movie started (a film from the 90’s called ’10 Things I Hate About You’), a romance of all things and one Bonnie didn’t mind, it was easy to forget about Marceline. Of course there was singing involved, and rhymes and poetry and all kinds of definitely Marceline-esque things. Skipping dinner to eat nothing but sugary foods didn’t even bother her. Still, it didn’t take her long to begin a losing battle with sleep.

They couldn’t have been more than half-way through the film before she stood, muttering about needing to go to bed. The look on Marceline’s face was strange, almost hurt. She grabbed Bonnie by the wrist, gently this time, and pulled her back down.

“Just watch the movie, Bonnie,” she murmured, not letting go of her wrist. She could feel her heart rate pick up and couldn’t fathom how Marceline didn’t feel it too. “This is a bed too, right? You can sleep here just the same.”

She leaned against the back of the chair, one arm around Bonnie’s waist to keep her down. Her mind kept telling her she’d given up, _remember_ , so why keep arguing. Bonnie curled up against Marceline’s side, face buried in her hair but she couldn’t sleep, not with her heart hammering like this. Not with Marceline’s fingers in her hair.

Bonnie sighed; trying to blot out everything she could and just relax. That warmth inside flared brightly, sending tingles along every nerve in her body, making her shiver, making her breath come short, and it kept sleep at arms’ length. 

“You alright?” Marceline’s voice vibrated in her chest and the question was soft, gentle.

She just nodded.

“Don’t lie to me.”

_How the flip did she know I was lying_? Bonnie thought, panic rising. She scrunched her eyes shut and twisted her face, trying to hide.

Marceline pushed her back totally thwarting that idea. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

Bonnie shook her head. She couldn’t speak, her throat was clogged with wool and her tongue was dry. 

Those dark eyes… augers… held her gaze. Mesmerising again, concerned… scared? What? The corners of Marceline’s mouth twitched, but not with a smile this time, with something else. Bonnie couldn’t quite place it but it made her heart cry.

“Tell me.” And her tone was so full of fear, of warmth, of… of… heartache?… something, whatever it was, Bonnie couldn’t ignore it. But she still couldn’t speak. And her face was flushed, heart racing, blood-thunder drumming in her ears and warm, so warm, all over.

She couldn’t speak and she couldn’t not answer. Her hands tangled in Marceline’s collar and she pulled her close, planting a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.

Every muscle in Marceline’s body froze at the same time. Then they melted. Marceline turned her head slightly and it was a proper kiss now. Yes, that’s what it was.

The bubbling warm in Bonnie’s stomach exploded, shooting lances of light everywhere. Sweet, like… like late spring rain and strawberries. Golden like sunlight; the sun suddenly didn’t seem so bad anymore. She was weightless.

Marceline leaned in, pressing her against the couch, hands on the small of her back, insistent. Bonnie didn’t care. Not about a thing, she wrapped her arms around Marceline’s neck, hands in her hair. She tasted strawberries again, her new favourite food.

Then Marceline broke away, eyes shining, half-smile canted across her lips, teeth glinting in the flickering light from the movie. “What was that?” Her tone was light, airy and her fingers fiddled absently with the hem of Bonnie’s shirt.

“Oh… I don’t know… Chemistry or something,” Bonnie replied, trying her best to sound cavalier. It probably didn’t work, she wanted strawberries.

The smile cracked slightly, tilting up a little higher, making Bonnie’s heart soar. “Science is awesome,” Marceline muttered. “How about you teach me something?”

They didn’t see the end of the movie.


	8. Looking For A Little More

Waking up wasn’t easy. Bonnie buried her face in her pillow… only, it wasn’t a pillow. It was Marceline’s shoulder and her arm tensed reflexively. Marceline’s long fingers tightened, knotting into her nightshirt, refusing to let her roll away.

The fingers were cold, and not easy to untangle, but if Bonnibel was anything it was persistent. Marceline groaned, eyes opening, blinking a few times in the low light sifting through under the curtains. Both of her arms contracted now, holding Bonnie resolutely.

“Good morning,” she whispered around a toothy smile. “And gee… isn’t it grand?”

She couldn’t stop a laugh from gurgling up her throat. It was quite an excellent morning, to be sure. “Let me go, Marceline. I have a lot to do today.”

“You _always_ say that,” Marceline grouched. Still, she let Bonnibel slither away this time and propped herself up on her elbows, flopping onto her stomach. “Can’t you take a day off from your _busy schedule_?” There was a trace of bitter resentment in her tone that Bonnie had never noticed before. Normally her teasing sounded mocking, sure, but never aggrieved. And that’s precisely what it was: Marceline was upset of all things.

“I can’t just take a day off without warning, Marceline,” Bonnie explained, shuffling into the kitchen. Perhaps sleeping in the living room was a good idea. It was _much_ closer to the food, how convenient. “But if you continue to make an annoyance of yourself I’ll let everyone know I’ll be busy on the weekend.”

The other woman perked up at that. “Do that. It’s nearly Christmas time, Bon. You know, festive season and all. You’ve just gotta take time off for that right?”

She sighed, fingers turning to claws on the milk bottle. Oh how she hated Christmas. “Regrettably yes, I will be doing that.” She scowled into the fridge. If only she could skip these holidays and leap straight into next year. She’d ignore New Year’s as well, that was just as trying.

Marceline’s mouth dropped in not-at-all-feigned-horror. “You don’t hate Christmas too do you?’ she asked in a stage whisper. “You’re the Grinch. That’s what you are.” Marceline lifted one quivering, indignant finger and jabbed it in Bonnie’s direction. “You have a problem.”

Bonnie sighed again, turning slowly. It was going to be one of those days. “I don’t hate the holiday itself, Marceline,” she explained hesitantly. “I hate going to my parents’ parties.”

Her friend’s brows drew together as she thought about that. “Parties… _plural_? They have more than one Christmas party?” It seemed Marceline didn’t know whether to be happy about that or completely baffled as to why it would be that way.

“Mmm… not precisely.” Her fingers drummed against the side of the milk bottle as she thought about it. “They have one in November; a garden party for all their friends, actually that one’s coming up fast… this week? Next week? Anyway, then they have one the day before Christmas – to beat the festive rush or some nonsense. They also do a New Year’s get-together and on the first of February all our family flies in to do a… a thing.” She felt her cheeks heat at that last. Her parents called it a _Clan Meet_ because they thought it was ‘cool’. It was just lame.

Marceline tallied it all up on her long fingers. “That’s _four_ parties in as many months, Bonnibel. What? Are your parents rich or something? One party is expensive; _four_ would cost a small fortune.”

Bonnie whipped around again, refusing to meet Marceline’s eyes. Instead, she buried herself in the pantry, hoping something would present itself and she could change the topic. Of course, nothing did. There was very little of interest in their cupboard; it was nearly empty. She’d have to go shopping tomorrow.

Rustling fabric behind her made her look over and Marceline was standing right beside her, mouth agape, eyes round. “Your family is rich isn’t it?” It sounded almost like an accusation. Almost.

“Define ‘rich’,” Bonnie murmured. Playing for time wasn’t wise. Marceline had proven herself a worthy adversary in the past.

Marceline folded her arms across her grey shirt and peered at her with her penetrating eyes. “You know very well what I mean, Bonnie.”

She threw up her hands, thankful the milk lid was on tight. “Does it even matter? You’re rich.” That was an accusation she wasn’t sure was founded in truth. And she was probably being too defensive.

It didn’t even get a reaction. The other woman kept staring. Then she deflated, arms swinging by her sides, a smile lighting up her face. “No, I guess it doesn’t matter.” She leaned past Bonnie to slide the cereal off its shelf, her proximity eliciting a sharp intake of breath. “Not really.” Marceline tilted her head, gently relieving Bonnie of the milk as she poured herself breakfast. “What makes you think _I’m_ rich?”

“Really?” she asked in a flat tone. “I came home that first day you were here and you’d _filled_ the apartment with expensive things. You bought a keyboard if you recall. And you go through hundreds of dollars’ worth of food every few days. I can’t imagine that’s something you took up when you moved in here, you’ve been doing it a while. You’re an expensive person, Marceline, you come from wealth.” She leaned in and tapped her friend on the nose. “I come from wealth, I can practically _smell_ it.”

Marceline grinned around a mouthful of cereal. “Touché.” Pausing, she rested her spoon – a plastic one, naturally – on the edge of her bowl. “So… why do your parents have so many parties? Just because they can, or what?”

Bonnie nodded, slipping onto the chair across from Marceline and mixing her own bowl. “Pretty much. They like to remind everyone who they are. They do Easter and Halloween to the max as well. Birthdays were always a big deal too, but they’ve been rather low key about them lately. Thank god.”

“Not big on parties, huh, Bon?”

“Not even a little. Waste of time.” She pondered on that a minute. “Actually, they’re pretty good for catching up with people,” she amended. “I only see my cousins once a year. That’s always nice. I hear one of them has two kids now. Twins. Must run in the family.”

Still smiling, Marceline made a second bowl. “So what are you doing today?”

“I have some research to do; both for myself and for work, and I have library duty this morning.” She checked her watch and gasped. “For which I’m already late. Thank you very much.”

“How is that my fault?” Marceline queried, vexed. 

“You kept me up late last night,” she called from her room where she hastily changed. “So I overslept. Ergo, your fault.”

“Bah, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy yourself last night.” It was cheeky, and if Bonnie could’ve seen her face, it would’ve been grinning broadly. They hadn’t _done_ anything, although Marceline had discovered that she was ticklish, but she’d been so tired she’d literally fallen straight to sleep.

“I never said… I didn’t…” she spluttered, staggering into the bathroom to clean her teeth. Then she hustled back out into the lounge, face bright red, eyes wide. Marceline stood from the table and flounced over.

“Don’t worry about it,” she whispered, smiling in the slow way she had. “I know what you meant.” Marceline inclined her head and brushed her lips against Bonnie’s, making her toes curl and her heart skip. “See you later, dork.”

Bonnie’s fingers twitched as something inside drew her to stay, but she forced her feet out the door and down to her car. It was going to be a long day.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

The librarian, Ms Cooter, was an ancient old woman with a bent back who spoke in a monotonous nasal way and seemed to intone everything. She could be quite crotchety with the ‘young hooligans’ who sometimes stumbled into _her_ library and was quick to shush them when they made too much noise for her liking. This happened rather frequently. And despite her age and her cataract clouded eyes, she moved with a spry shuffle and swung her cane hard enough to sting.

Fortunately, Cooter was not so stern to Bonnibel, who at least appreciated the library. Her wrinkled face split in two every morning when Bonnie strode in, smiling, showing off her somewhat yellowed teeth. Sometimes, Bonnie thought she could actually hear Cooter creaking as she moved.

As expected, the day wore on painfully slowly. Possibly just to spite her, possibly because she kept checking the clock; a watched pot never boils, so she’s been told. Because it was nearly the holidays, she didn’t go in to her job at the high school, they didn’t need her, so she worked extra hours at the library. They were drawn out and tedious, despite the occasional conversation with a visitor or Cooter. This day was punctuated briefly by Rain, who dropped by near lunch.

It wasn’t eventful, altogether. They ate at the café across the street where her friend Pete worked. She spent the whole time wondering if Rain could tell what had happened the evening before. It wasn’t brought up, so she guessed her fidgeting and inability to make eye contact was disregarded. For the first time she thanked her occasional bout of vague inattentiveness for being something her friends were used to.

Her afternoon was even less exciting, something she hadn’t thought possible. Absolutely nobody asked her anything and she ended up slumped in one of the sofas reading. It was a good book and consumed her attention for a while, but despite her fascination with evolutionary theories when the clock chimed 4pm, she pushed it back into its place and headed for the door. Not too fast or Cooter would question it, she usually lingered a while and almost never left without checking a book out as well.

She smiled and waved and took the steps two at a time, landing heavily at the bottom before yanking her car door open and clambering in. This was not healthy behaviour and she had to stop, stop, stop. Bonnie took several deep breaths and reined herself in. She needed a distraction, anything at all to take her mind off Marceline.

On cue, her phone beeped.

Bonnie blinked and pulled over to see who it was. Her brother got his own tone when he messaged or called, so it wasn’t him. She swiped at her screen and blinked again.

_You, me, Cherry. Tomorrow, 10am. Flam-Bar. Don’t be late_.

It was so brief, so blunt that it could only be one person, even without checking the sender. Lucy Pinterry was a long-time friend and the absolute _worst_ gossip (and by ‘worst’ she meant that she ran the rumour mill practically single-handed) she knew. They hadn’t seen each other in months for various reasons and Bonnie hadn’t expected to catch up until her mother’s first Christmas party. This was unexpected, but it did give her an excuse to get out of the apartment.

And Cherry. Gosh it’d been a while since they’d spoken too. She sighed, realising Rain was right; she really didn’t get out enough.

“I’m going out tomorrow,” she announced as she walked through the door. Kicking her shoes off and dumping her things on the table, she collapsed onto the lounge. “Early, going to meet some friends.”

“You have friends?” Marceline’s voice emanated from her room.

“Shut up. Yes I have friends.”

“What about your _work_?”

“School’s out this week, the library’s closed for remodelling as of the day after tomorrow and my research is going well. Thanks for your concern,” she said dryly. “Besides, I haven’t seen them in months. Be nice to catch up before the party and my mother ruins everything.”

Silence. Then, “Do you really hate your mother?”

She thought about that for a minute. “No. She just… frustrates me. She and dad are so narrow-minded. Anything that differs from what they believe _must_ be wrong and things are… not the same as when they grew up. They resist change.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Marceline sang, materialising beside her. “Change isn’t always a bad thing you know.”

“I’m well aware, thank you.” One example of good change was sitting beside her. She’d never tell Marceline that, of course. But there was a small smile showing at the corner of her roommate’s mouth that said she already knew.


	9. A Little More Brave

It was an early start in the morning. Marceline was awake though, Bonnie wasn’t entirely convinced the woman slept at all really. The TV was murmuring when she stumbled out, rubbing bleary eyes and clumsily sliding her glasses over her ears. Naturally, Marceline was eating.

“Morning,” she sang. Her legs were folded beneath her and she was perched on top of the dining table. “You’re up early.”

Bonnibel grunted and tromped about getting ready. Marceline chuckled, ruffling her hair as she walked past, slumping into a chair. She was not really in the mood. While she’d slept well, there were so many things buzzing around in her mind that it didn’t ever turn off, not properly.

“I’ve got things to do before I go,” she grumbled. It was surprisingly tempting to just flop across the table. Even splashing her face into her cereal didn’t seem like a bad idea. Why did she feel so… tired?

“Of course,” Marceline replied sardonically. She slid off the table, already walking as she hit the ground. “Whelp. You enjoy yourself today, Bon.” Marceline tossed her dishes in the sink and headed into the bathroom. “I’m meeting an old friend today. It’s gonna be awesome.”

Bonnie perked up as the door creaked closed. The lock was broken, but usually she was asleep when Marceline used the bathroom in the morning. What Marceline did in there was still a mystery, it was utterly silent, and curiosity had been nagging at her for a while now.

She sat up and slid her chair back, trying her hardest to be quiet about it and cringing when it squeaked. With a superhuman effort, she managed not to race down the hall, instead, tiptoeing as silently as she could, pressing her nose against the wood. Her heart pounded in her chest, palms sweating.

Ok, Bonnie knew this was wrong and that it violated all kinds of trust boundaries and would probably not do anything constructive for this weird friendship they had going. But mysteries _annoyed_ her. Marceline had been an enigma for long enough. This morning, Bonnibel was determined to find answers for at least this one.

As usual, there was not a sound coming from the other side of the door. Not a peep. And no detectable movement either. What on _earth_ did she do in there?

Thanks to the broken lock, it was a simple matter for her to press the door in slightly. Soft light pulsed a pale purple colour, spilling around the door. Bonnie frowned; she didn’t have anything that made purple light. She pushed the door open just a little further, her stomach tying itself in knots as she waited for the hinges to squeal and give her away.

 _You shouldn’t be doing this, Bonnibel_ , she growled to herself. _This is_ not _going to end well_.

The edge of the mirror appeared in the crack. The purple light didn’t appear to have much reflection in its surface. It eddied around the edges, but didn’t fill as much of the mirror as it should. Watching with a confused expression and a leaden heart, the light swirled towards the middle of the mirror and Bonnie eased the door open a little more to observe it. It took her a long moment to process what she was seeing. Or rather; what she wasn’t seeing.

She flung the door open, startling Marceline. The light winked out. Oh.

Eyes narrowed, Bonnie stared at her roommate, then at the mirror, then back at Marceline. Very odd. Very odd indeed.

“Bonnie…” Marceline seemed worried, as though this would somehow be of greater concern to Bonnibel than to her. She bit her lower lip and stepped into the room, head tilted to one side. This was not what she’d expected.

Marceline’s hair was swept back over her shoulder revealing her ears, something that didn’t happen a great deal. Bonnie crossed to her and without even thinking, ran two fingers around the edge of one ear. With a sharp breath, she pulled her hand away.

“That’s… not normal,” she informed Marceline.

The other woman blinked and threw a hand out to indicate the mirror. “Um… Bonnie? Are you alright?”

She glanced once at the mirror, where she was standing, but Marceline wasn’t. Definitely not normal. “I’m fine. Are you ok? Is this… common… for you?”

Marceline’s mouth dropped. “You… you’re worried about _me_?”

Bonnie shrugged. Her mind made the mental leap and deduced what everything meant (and it sure explained _a lot_ ) but she just couldn’t accept it. That wasn’t possible. It had to be something else, some other explanation.

Marceline’s shoulders slumped and she rubbed the side of her neck, an action she did when anxious or uncomfortable. “I uh… was hoping you wouldn’t find out… I guess that was stupid, huh?” A smile flashed across her face, but it wasn’t even close to her usual vibrancy or sincerity. “So… um… I’m a vampire?”

Can’t cross thresholds without being verbally invited, check. Doesn’t have a reflection, check. Very pale, check. It was the rest that didn’t make sense. She did sleep, and not in a coffin, Marceline wasn’t overly affected by exposure to sunlight, she ate garlic. She didn’t drink blood either to Bonnibel’s knowledge. She voiced the inconsistencies with a puzzled expression on her face. Unless all the variables and results formed an irrefutable conclusion, there was always the possibility that something else was the cause.

The look on Marceline’s face couldn’t have been more stunned if she’d tried. “I tell you I’m a creature from the blackest nightmares and you’re wondering why everything doesn’t add up? You’ve got your experiment face on, Bonnie. Why aren’t you running?”

“You haven’t killed anyone,” Bonnie replied in a deadpan tone, still thinking. “You’ve never tried to kill me. What have I got to worry about?”

Marceline’s legs wobbled and she sat down rather hard on the tiled floor. Bonnibel looked at her then folded her legs and followed suit. Hands on her knees, she leaned forward and peered at Marceline. Who in turn, tilted her head back slightly as if uncomfortable being under such scrutiny.

“I want an explanation for all the inconsistencies, Marceline,” Bonnie informed her bluntly. “And answers to my questions.”

“You have questions?” That was asked in a whisper. Bonnie just watched her, waiting patiently. Swallowing, Marceline looked away. “I’m old,” she began roughly. “I don’t really… remember… I’ve stopped counting; things sort of… run together after a while. I vaguely remember the Roman Empire, but I think I was around before that too. You might want to ask my dad, he’d know. I’ve never been good with numbers and such.” She paused, rubbing her neck and eyeing Bonnie surreptitiously as though wondering if that might have some impact. It didn’t.

So she continued. “There weren’t many of us at first. My dad was cursed because some jilted lover of mum’s didn’t like him much and wanted him gone. But some other spell cast by dad’s mum made it go wrong. I’m bad at explaining magic, ever since Harry Potter, people expect fancy words and stuff to make it simple. It’s not. Anyway, he ended up… undead. I don’t know the specifics for the first spell… or the second one either really… All I know for sure is that somehow they mingled and made him a vampire. He turned mum pretty much straight away. Marshall and I were about twenty-three at the time and he gave us the same choice. Obviously we took it.

“Contrary to popular opinion, we do age for the first year, but slowly. It’s not an instantaneous transition from alive to dead. So by the time I was fully converted my age was probably closer to twenty-four… hard to say though.” She stopped again. “I guess you want me to clear up all those other beliefs, huh?”

Bonnie just nodded and Marceline went on. “Kay, well… sunlight takes a few hours of direct exposure before it hurts. It just tickles otherwise. We wouldn’t be very good as apex predators if sunlight was our undoing. So many creatures run around in the day time, limiting ourselves to the night is pretty dumb. We’re _more_ active at night because the sun does tickle and sunscreen wasn’t invented until the 1900s. It’s actually quite effective in keeping the sun from hurting, although it wears off faster on us for some reason. We can eat anything. Literally, anything. Blood doesn’t have any particular sustenance value for us really. It’s mostly water after all; we’d have to drink an awful lot of it for it to be enough to keep us going by itself. That belief is just because in the Dark Ages a whole group of vampires went psycho-homicidal-maniac and slaughtered thousands because they felt like it. Then drank their blood. Because they were crazy. We eat a lot. Takes a good deal of food to power the undead.” Marceline smiled again and this time it wasn’t as fake. It wasn’t her usual smile, but it was an improvement.

“Stakes to the heart don’t work, we sleep because it’s less weird for the humans around us, we have to be asked before we can enter premises, we don’t have reflections. Duh. Um… that’s about it I think.” She scrubbed the side of her neck again. 

“Population control.” It was a prompt. “You said something about crazies in the Dark Ages. Where did they go?”

“Oh, right. Uh… well… you see. My dad is the first vampire, so we all come from him. But he was very careful about creating more. Mum was… less so. So much power is impossible to contain really, and it was only a matter of time before some lunatic decided he wanted to take over the world. When that did happen, dad, Marshall and I sort of… tracked them all down and eliminated them. There’s only… maybe… a dozen vampires left. And none of them can turn a human without express permission from dad. And he’s got this magical… whatever… that prevents them from trying. I’m not sure how to explain it…”

“Your dad controls the population growth,” Bonnie mused. “Very clever. What a good solution. I suppose there are other mythical creatures that exist too?”

Now the smile was real. “You’re taking this very well, Bonnie,” she chuckled. “Better than I would have thought for a science brain.”

She shrugged. “Facts are facts. I’m not going to argue with a living, breathing reason to believe in magic.”

Marceline lifted a finger. “Not living or breathing. That’s just to make it easier for humans to be around us. We adapt better than any other species on the planet. Best not to arouse suspicion you know?”

“Other species,” Bonnibel reminded her. She was peering at her roommate’s teeth now. Where did the fangs go?

“Yeah right… so most of them really.” She flopped back, propping herself up on her palms. “Werewolves, witches, wizards, shapeshifters, unicorns… I’ve only met one dragon recently, Gregory, he’s Irish. The Brits did a pretty good job of wiping them out, if there are others they’ve hidden really well.” Her eyes rolled up into her head as she thought. “Oliver lives in Loch Ness, he hates being referred to as a ‘she’.” She giggled. “ _Nessie_ drives him up the wall.”

“Wait, hold up. The Loch Ness Monster is real?”

“Yeah, a whole bunch of them are. Big Foot isn’t, but the Abominable Snowman is, and _her_ name is Raquel. She gets quite grumpy about it too, but at least she doesn’t break things.”

Bonnie shook her head. “What about other things then? The Tower of Babel, Atlantis, the Bermuda Triangle, Pandora’s Box…” she trailed off, thinking of all the implications for the next one. “What about Heaven and Hell?”

Marceline rolled her eyes. “So many questions. Geez, brainiac, let me catch up. Uh… no, not sure, yes, no, pretty sure no. How’s that?”

Bonnibel ran through her questions in order. Only the Bermuda Triangle got a definitive yes, interesting. “Fangs,” she said, leaping to a new topic and pointing. “Where are they? And what do you do in here every morning?”

“Fangs,” Marceline said, opening her mouth wide. Four fangs, two top, and two bottom, folded out, like those of a snake. “That adaptation took a while and was rather uncomfortable.” She grimaced. “What I do in here every morning is cast an illusion so that people don’t see my ears, my scar or… anything else that might be considered _unnatural_.”

“I’ve seen your ears and scar,” Bonnie pointed out.

“Yes well… you weren’t supposed to. Normally I wake up before you and have plenty of time to hide them.”

“Why don’t you make the illusion permanent?” Bonnie shuffled closer, squinting at Marceline’s eyes. They weren’t red. Just regular brown. Huh.

“Takes too much energy. I’m not as good at magic as my dad, but I’m _lightyears_ better than Marshall… What are you doing?”

Bonnibel had pressed two fingers against Marceline’s neck. “Just making sure you really don’t have a pulse.”

“You’re a freak. Are you really so… _alright_ with this?”

“You’re not going to hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

Bonnie’s fingers knotted into Marceline’s shirt and pulled her closer. “Yes I do.” Then she kissed her cheek. At least this was an explanation for her freakishly cold skin. And her seeming unconcern for the temperature.

“You’re either very brave or very stupid, Bonnibel Bubblegum,” Marceline murmured into her ear.

“I’ve never thought of myself as brave before,” she admitted. “But then, I’ve never had a reason to want to be either.”

“Still a freak.”


	10. Theirs To Speculate

“Bonnibell!”

She hadn’t even taken two steps from her car before she was accosted. Lucy was waving avidly as she hustled over, Cherry only a few steps behind, more subdued than her enthusiastic friend. Before she had much chance to register what was happening, Lucy had thrown her arms around Bonnie and hugged for all she was worth.

“Good morning,” Cherry said in a regular tone as Lucy screeched in her ear. “Sorry about that, she was so excited.”

“Clearly,” Bonnie replied with a smile. She disentangled herself, as gently as she could. It was nice to see her friends. “You could’ve just waited until mum’s party you know.”

Lucy waved a be-ringed hand. “Tosh, never.” She beamed, curly black hair piled on top of her head and dressed all in shades of purple. Her wrists were decked with bangles and even for such a casual trip out she wore heels. That was Lucy, somewhat eccentric and somewhat high class. All cunning. The look glittering in her eyes wasn’t one Bonnie had missed. “You have to tell me _everything_.”

With that, Lucy looped one arm through Bonnie’s, one through Cherry’s and dragged them down the street. Unsurprisingly, the man at the door to Flam-Bar’s waved them through with a wink. Lucy knew pretty much everyone.

Flam-Bar was – as the name suggested – a bar. It also functioned as a restaurant, but they were primarily an alcoholic vendor. Not to say people didn’t come in to eat a meal, it happened, at this time of day most customers would be eating on the patio. Bonnie was actually surprised to have been given an invitation to Flam-Bar’s so early, Lucy was the kind of girl who came to a bar at night. Still, she wasn’t going to complain. The bar had been their primary meeting location during college and hadn’t changed much.

Blaze, the owner, a skinny fellow who dyed his hair crimson, was chatting to an older gentleman at a table. When they came in he turned and grinned, hurrying over as they slid onto bar stools. It was quite crowded; nearing lunch Bonnie supposed people would come in for one reason or other. Maybe to eat, maybe the college kids just wanted to get drunk. 

“Lucy, my girl,” he crowed, hugging her. “Been a long time. How are we all, ladies?”

“Excellent, actually,” Lucy replied equally loudly. “You remember Bonnibel don’t you? And Cherry? We’re spending the day _out_!” Bonnie’s heart sank. Of course, there was bound to be more to this than a simple catch-up with Lucy involved.

“Something isn’t right here,” Bonnie whispered. Cherry glanced over and shot a sympathetic look her way.

“We’re gonna find Elle here a boyfriend,” Lucy sang, rapping her knuckles along the bar. Bonnibel groaned inwardly. There it was. Lucy was probably doing this because her parents had mentioned something. “There has to be some nice young men in here. It’s a good _respectable_ hour of the day; surely they aren’t all grog-heads.”

Blaze smiled gently, well used to Lucy’s fervour. “Of course we have… respectable customers.” He made it sound like a silly thing for Lucy to have implied. And if Lucy weren’t so completely oblivious to most things like that, she might have been embarrassed. Blaze poured them all drinks – water for Bonnie – and went off to do… his job.

“I don’t need or want a boyfriend, Lucy,” Bonnie hissed as soon as he was out of earshot. _Definitely not_. She didn’t know what exactly had happened between her and Marceline, but whatever it could be classified as, she liked it. Oh God help her. No guys.

The look Lucy gave her spoke volumes. It was an ‘are you serious’ look if ever Bonnie had seen one. Lucy was – just like Bonnie parents – firm in her belief that everyone needed a partner and Bonnibel was, by managing to avoid any kind of serious relationship with a guy, quite weird. Oh she’d dated at her parents’ insistence (they’d even threatened to take her books off her, prevent her from studying, all kinds of nasty things). But those two guys, for those few brief months were the worst decisions she’d ever made. They were distracting and needy and unrepentant in their interrupting. None of them could fathom how important her studies were to her, nor her desire to avoid alcohol fuelled social situations. That said, Marceline was all those things too, but Bonnie didn’t mind her as much. Odd.

Sure, Norman had been a nice enough fellow, if kind of dense. Braco was a sweet guy as well, but so intense and extroverted (and slightly possessive) that Bonnie had felt way out of her depth. No, dating was not for her. Not at all. She would remain adamant to that end for the rest of her life. Or at least… she presumed she would. Things changed.

“Oh Bonnibel, please,” Lucy exhaled melodramatically. “I don’t know what happened between you and Braco, but you have _got_ to get _over_ it. You need a man to take you to your mother’s party and _we_ are going to help you.” Cherry smiled wanly, probably just glad that attention wasn’t on her.

“Look, Lucy,” Bonnie began, mind whirling. There was no way she was going to tell Lucy the truth (boy how _that_ would end up) but her mind couldn’t think of a decent excuse put on the spot like this. She floundered. Lucy watched her expectantly, waiting for something that didn’t come.

Thankfully, Bonnie was saved from finding an excuse. Unfortunately, it was by someone she’d really rather not see. Especially not right now.

“Hello, Lucy, Cherry… oh… Hey Elle.” Braco. His freckled face as sincere and boyish as ever, floppy brown hair cut slightly shorter since she’d last seen him, brown eyes still doughy like a puppy’s. “You look good.”

“Yeah… um, you look well too,” she muttered. This was exceedingly awkward. And, as she’d come to realise even more passionately lately, Bonnie hated awkward.

Lucy’s expression was triumphant. One way or another, she was going home with gossip today, a success in her eyes. Cherry still looked apologetic, as well she might.

Braco sat carefully on the edge of a stool and folded his hands across his lap, staring at her. Bonnie felt really guilty and couldn’t meet his eyes. “How have you been?” he asked softly. It was as though no one else was in the room, just the two of them.

She bobbed her head, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. “Pretty good. You?” Small talk. How pathetic.

“Actually, I’ve been really quite amazing. I’ve been hired to work for the mines out west.” A smile split his face in two making him look like a kid. “I’m so excited.”

“I thought you were into IT,” Bonnie noted. Despite herself, something that didn’t quite meet her expectations piqued her interest.

“Yeah, well, someone has to make sure all their stuff runs properly.” He chortled. “Not what I expected to be doing, but way more interesting than customer service.” His fingers were dancing in a preoccupied fashion, the way they did when there was something on his mind that he didn’t know how to give voice. “Hey… do you reckon…?” he cleared his throat. “Could we get a drink, you think? Later?”

Her heart sank. _No_ , she thought. He was so earnest that being blunt and decisive made her feel like a real jerk. She could feel Lucy’s eyes on her and knew this was probably going to end badly. Oh for a miracle.

“Um…” she began slowly, hoping to delay having to answer. She glanced quickly at Cherry, then at the door, praying something would happen. Anything would be better than this.

“Yo.” All four of them looked up. A tall young man with short rumpled black hair and brown eyes was standing by the bar. Hands in the pockets of his tattered denim jeans, and a cheeky half-smile tilted across his pale face. Bonnie frowned. That was a familiar smile. “You must be C6,” he said, throwing a hand out at Bonnibel. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m H12.”

That took a minute to process and when it finally did, her jaw dropped. Numbly, having just been saved a second time today, she took the hand. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oxygen.” The man’s smile widened and she was suddenly sure she knew precisely who it belonged too. She could feel her cheeks heat.

“I’m Michael,” he told her friends. Smouldering brown eyes swung back to her and teeth flashed. “You’re coming with me, glucose.” Bonnie nearly choked.

The hand around hers tightened and drew her off her seat and into the crowd. “Marceline?” she hissed. 

“Course, who else?”

“You look like a guy! Are you a shapeshifter too?”

Marceline laughed. “No, it’s an illusion.”

Bonnie tapped her lip with the fingers of her free hand. “Can you turn into a bat?” That would certainly explain all the ‘batty’ jokes.

“I’m actually associated with the turtle dove. Don’t ask. Was I right in thinking you wanted saving from them?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” she said, still thinking. Marceline could turn into _turtle dove_? Then move casually onto a new topic like it was no big deal? There would be more on the subject later. Doves aren’t even usually connected to vampires. Weird. “Well… I don’t mind them, they are my friends, but Lucy has a big mouth, she’s a shameless gossip. And Braco…” she sighed.

Marceline looked down at her, hand squeezing hers gently. “What?”

“Ah,” Bonnie exhaled. “We dated. It didn’t end well. I never said why though and he was pretty gracious about it. Lucy still feels cheated that she couldn’t find out.”

“What happened?”

Bonnie shrugged. “I just… It felt wrong. I never looked forward to being with him. It was weird. He’s so… zealous about everything and that kind of energy just makes me tired. I felt more like his mother than his girlfriend to be honest.” She looked away.

“It’s alright,” Marceline said with a smile. “Better than the last guy I dated. He was a real psycho. And a wizard to boot. Magic and…” her smile turned into a grin. “A sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot, and one with a lot of power behind him.”

“Sounds like a real pain.”

“He was.”

“Men, huh?”

“Too right.”

They stopped at the bar a way off and Marceline shot a covert glance at her friends. “They’re gonna talk about this for a while, aren’t they?”

Bonnie folded her arms. “Yes. I don’t normally go to bars. I don’t normally talk to random people. I don’t normally do both together. _Everyone_ will be talking about this for a while.”

They were silent a moment. Then, “Did I make things harder for you?” Marceline sounded worried by the idea.

“What? No,” Bonnie exclaimed. “I mean, it probably would’ve been less strange if you turned up as my roommate and declared that we were leaving for some reason. But this… this works too.” Her heart felt heavy. She’d thought before that _something_ between them must have changed since the other night, surely. Was it ok to ask? Or did she just assume? She sighed inwardly; she’d never been very good at things like this.

“Hey, Bon,” Marceline murmured. “You have your thinking face on. What’s up?”

She scrambled all her courage into a little ball and took a deep breath. “I kissed you.” Marceline’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under her fringe. “You…” Bonnibel could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks but she had to ask or the not knowing would _kill_ her. She _hated_ mysteries. “What does that make… this? Us?” She waved a hand hoping it would help formulate her question. It probably didn’t.

Marceline’s expression softened. She leaned over and took Bonnie’s hand again. “What are you thinking, Bonnibel?”

Her brows knitted together. “Are we friends?”

Marceline smiled. “Sure, if you want.” There was laughter in her voice. As though she found Bonnie’s flailing amusing. That made her angry.

“Marceline you’re not helping here,” she growled. The other woman just chuckled, placing hands on Bonnie’s shoulders.

“You’re not being very articulate, brainiac,” she whispered. “What are you asking me?”

Bonnie huffed. “I’m sure you know perfectly well what I’m asking you.”

“I _kind_ of want to hear you say it.”

Why was this question so hard to get out? It was just a question. She liked asking questions. Liked knowing they had answers, definite answers. That was much better than mysteries. They were… well… they were mysterious and that just wouldn’t do.

She took another deep breath. And then another. “Ugh, you’re so frustrating.” Marceline just smiled her little half-smile and it made everything better. “Does it make you my girlfriend?” she finally blurted.

For a moment Marceline didn’t answer. She knew how much it irritated Bonnie when questions didn’t have answers. That’s why she did it. That’s why whenever Bonnie asked her what she felt like eating for dinner she’d shrug and say she didn’t care. Bonnie’s expression must have been some sort of hybrid between consternation and fury though, because Marceline didn’t keep her waiting long.

“I suppose it does if you want,” she said slowly. “Although we should probably go on a date of some kind. Otherwise it might not count.” She was joking from the look in her eyes. But the point was she’d answered. A great weight lifted off her shoulders and Bonnie sank back onto the stool.

“Ok then,” she replied.

The smirk was back; Marceline leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “If you’re my girlfriend you should come with me then,” she murmured in Bonnie’s ear. Her breath sent tingles along Bonnibel’s shoulders.

“Where are we going?” she whispered back. She knew what this would look like to her friends, but in that moment she didn’t care.

Marceline’s lips brushed her jaw as she pulled away, leaving Bonnie’s heart racing and her breath coming in short gasps. She poked Bonnibel’s nose and grinned in her blinding way. “Well you’ve met my brother, I’d take you to meet my dad but that might be going a bit fast for you.” She snickered at the look on Bonnie’s face when she said that. “But you should meet my uncle, Simon.”


	11. A Fight I Don’t Mind Losing

Her uncle Simon, as it turned out, was the middle aged fellow Blaze had been talking to earlier. He had a head of windblown salt and pepper hair that was more salt than pepper, a short beard and fluffy moustaches. Old hazel eyes peered at her through small round glasses with a bluish tint to them. Unlike Marceline and her brother; he dressed nicely, in a grey and brown suit complete with bow tie. Like the twins though, he had skin somewhat paler than most people, almost blue.

“Sup, Simon,” Marceline said, sinking down opposite him in the booth, pulling Bonnie after her. “How’ve you been? Got any good stories for me?”

A smile flickered across his face; very different to the one Marceline wore. This one was fond and gentle, grandfatherly even. “I don’t believe I do, Marceline,” he replied in a voice that matched his smile. “Not any that your friend would want to hear.”

The implication was inherent: Bonnie couldn’t be told any of his stories because she was human. Marceline flashed her teeth at him. She wondered if her knowing about Marceline would be alright… It wasn’t something that happened a great deal, she imagined.

“This is Bonnibel, Simon,” Marceline said. “We live together. Simon… was kinda like a fill-in-father when Marshall and I were little and dad was too busy… _headhunting_.” The look on her face when she said that was more than enough for Bonnie to fill in the blanks. “We call him our uncle but he’s really more like a grandfather. Isn’t that right, Simon?”

He huffed, his moustaches blowing out and he turned his gaze on Bonnibel. “You’re being careful I hope,” he said softly, talking to Marceline. Bonnie wondered if she should tell him what she knew.

She twisted her lips together in thought. Then she decided she might as well. “Are you… like Marceline?” she queried. 

“Nah, Bon, he’s not like me,” Marceline told her. Simon shot her a confused look. “Dad offered once, but Simon’s pretty good as is.”

Bonnie tapped her chin. “You said he helped raise you when you were kids… Did you mean figuratively or _literally_?”

“Literally, Bon,” she chuckled. “He was actually around when I was a kid. He’s a wizard.”

Simon’s jaw dropped. “She _knows_?” he spluttered. “But your father told you…”

Marceline shrugged. “She worked it out. She’s pretty bright for a human.” Then she waved a hand as if it was all completely irrelevant. “Why are you here, Simon? I thought you were spending time further south.”

“Antarctica gets lonely, Marceline,” he said dryly. “Penguins can’t quite replace humans as friends. No,” he said, raising a hand to forestall whatever cheeky jibe Marceline was going to make. “I’m not crazy just yet.”

“You live in Antarctica?” Bonnie put in, perplexed. What kind of wizard lives in Antarctica? What possible reason could he have?

His smile seemed strained of a sudden and Marceline’s face fell. Her question was a bad one it seemed. Her fingers sitting on the seat were cool abruptly as Marceline wrapped her long digits around them. “That’s a complicated question, Bonnie,” she mumbled.

“Would you like me to answer, Marceline?” Simon asked her. She only nodded. He took a deep breath and fixed his piercing eyes on Bonnibel. “Very well then. For being what we are, magical creatures in every shape and form must pay… a price, for want of a better term. To some creatures, it is more a curse than anything else.” His pointed look at Marceline told her what he meant. “Sometimes the price is simple, many witches and wizards have lost their humanity in gaining power. Creatures such as centaurs and mermaids are descendants of such. Vampires gain incredible gifts at the cost of both their humanity and ability to form lasting friendships. They _outlive_ everyone.”

Marceline smiled wanly at her but couldn’t quite meet her eyes. Bonnie felt a sudden sense of melancholy so profound she felt tears welling behind her eyes. It must be terrible to live through so many infinite years alone. She supposed having a brother, father and uncle might help, but… still.

“Wizards of different kinds pay varying costs,” Simon went on. “It’s generally a form of decay. I met a witch several hundred years ago who rotted slowly for fifty years before dying. Of course, all magical creatures are long-lived, but sometimes wizards or witches seek eternal life. In my youth, I sought that. It was folly of course, but I didn’t know it at the time.

“For my stupidity, I was cursed two-fold, once for already being a wizard and once for trying to delay death. I was granted immortality, but doomed to forget everything that ever meant something to me, living in my own empty mind for all time. With the onset of my memory loss, I grew increasingly violent.” His voice caught at some tragic memory lost in the haze of history. “I killed my wife,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t remember it, but… I’ve been told as much and I’ve no reason to doubt it.

“Marceline’s father helped me. Vampire magic, it turns out, is quite versatile and Hunter is the best. That was many, many years since and nothing can delay it forever. I’ve relapsed; things are missing in my mind.” He exhaled, fingers splayed on the table before him. “I can feel memories slipping away. I came here to ask Hunter if there was more he could do. I don’t have much hope, but… any is better than none.”

Marceline stretched her free hand across the table and placed it over Simon’s. The one around Bonnie’s hand had tightened almost painfully, but she couldn’t bring herself to extract it. “I’m sure he’ll do his best, Simon,” she said thickly. “You’re his oldest friend.”

Simon shook his head. “He can try if he likes. There’s nothing he can do. Not now. It’s too late, I’ve reached the end. The only thing is for him to end it before I can do something truly awful.” His eyes flicked momentarily to Bonnie before returning to Marceline. 

“Maybe I can help,” Bonnie interjected. Both sets of eyes swivelled her way. “I mean, I love neurophysics, I’ve studied it for years. If it has something to do with your brain I can work it out and Marceline knows a lot about magic, you all do, I’m sure you could explain things.”

He blinked. “Neurophysics,” he said flatly. “I hardly think science can fix a magical problem, Bonnibel.”

She grinned, hoping it didn’t look forced. “Magic is just science we don’t understand yet,” she replied stubbornly. “At least let me try. If I’m wrong and I can’t help you then you haven’t lost anything. But if I’m _right_ and you don’t try…?”

Marceline’s hand tightened again. “You… want to try and cure him?”

“Of course.” Bonnie looked at her like she was stupid. “He means a lot to you. If I can help it’s only right that I give it a go. Besides,” she lowered her voice, face flushing again. “You mean a lot to me too.”

Her friend broke into a grin. She threw her arms around Bonnie’s neck. “Thank you,” Marceline breathed into her ear. “Thank you.”

“I just said I’d _try_ , Marceline,” she pointed out. “I can’t promise anything.” Marceline pulled back, but her smile was still there.

Even Simon’s mouth was pulled up at the corners. Oh god, what had she agreed to? “Might I ask, Marceline… Why are you concealed as a young man?”

Marceline glanced down at herself as if just realising that she still looked like a boy. “Oh. Um. Bonnie’s friends were harassing her about something. I saved her.”

Bonnie grimaced. “You did make the situation irretrievable and beyond complicated though,” she said dryly. “Thanks for getting me out and all, but… you could’ve just been my roommate.”

“You didn’t tell me what they wanted from you, anyway,” Marceline said, ignoring her.

She huffed, hoping she looked irate. “Lucy is a good friend. Yes she’s the gossip, but she’s still my friend. And I’ve known Cherry for years too, Braco I dated in college for all of two months. Lucy, apparently, talks to my mother more than I do and she was required to get me a guy, so he could _accompany me_ to my mother’s party.” She scowled again. “I didn’t have a valid excuse as to why I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“You could just tell them the truth,” Marceline piped helpfully.

Bonnie laughed mockingly. “Ha, no. No, I can’t, Marceline. My parents would have aneurisms. It would _not_ go down well. At all.”

Marceline grinned at her and leaned closer. “You’re a rebel child,” she whispered.

Bonnibel pushed her away, smiling properly now. “I guess I am.” What an odd thing to have transpired.

Simon was frowning. “What did I miss?” he asked, one snowy eyebrow raised. “Something happened didn’t it? And I wasn’t told.”

Marceline had managed to get one arm around Bonnie by this point – and Bonnie wasn’t making it easy for her. She was leaning in awfully close and Bonnibel knew her friends were still keeping an eye on them. They’d all be up in arms if something untoward happened. What must Lucy be thinking about all this?

“Since we haven’t actually gone out together it seems a bit presumptuous to say we’re dating, don’t you think, Bonnie?” Marceline asked sweetly. Too sweet, it was as if she’d been drenched in… in glucose.

Bonnie sucked in a breath, remembering. “Hey, you remembered the chemical formula for sugar,” she exclaimed. “C6 plus H12 plus O6 is glucose. If my friends knew you’d called me ‘sugar’ right under their noses, they’d…”

“They’d what, Bonnie?” Marceline growled. “What can they do?”

It didn’t take her long to realise what they’d do. “Nothing. They can’t do anything. But the fact that I went with you is going to be all over the neighbourhood before we make it to the curb.” Marceline was still making a nuisance of herself and Simon only appeared amused. “Please stop,” Bonnie complained. Trying to move the much stronger vampire was fruitless, so she just gave up.

“Does your father know, Marceline?” Simon asked softly as Marceline finally managed to kiss Bonnie’s cheek. Startled she leaned back and Bonnie exhaled with relief.

“Um… no. But, I will tell him.” Marceline was grinning. “Actually, once we’ve survived Bonnie’s parents, I’ll set up a time to see him. I’ll drag Marshall with; he’ll be a good buffer.” She nodded as though satisfied with herself.

Simon stood, pulling a bag Bonnibel hadn’t seen off the chair. “I should be going,” he said. “It was lovely to meet you, Bonnibel. I haven’t seen Marceline smile like that in years.” He lifted one eyebrow pointedly. “ _Years_.” She got the hint.

“Thank you, Simon,” Marceline grumbled. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

He chuckled, waving to Blaze as he left. Bonnie wondered if they knew each other. A mystery for another time.

“So,” said Marceline as the door closed behind Simon. “Let’s do something.” She leaned against the chair and grinned at Bonnie. Her cheeky half-smile that made Bonnie’s heart skip spread broadly across her face and she elbowed her in the ribs. “Movie?” There was laughter in her voice.

Bonnibel rolled her eyes and shoved the elbow away. She was giggling too though because it _was_ funny, if a little crass. “I probably shouldn’t just ditch my friends, Marceline.”

Marceline’s mouth was open, for a comeback, taunt or one of any other assorted verbal weapons she kept at the ready for just such occasions, but nothing came out. Her eyes were staring over Bonnie’s shoulder and her expression raced through her usual mischievous to amused and then on to sheepish before settling on smug self-satisfaction. Of course, Bonnie had to glance behind her to find the cause.

“We’re heading out,” Lucy said, eyes sparkling with an almost evil delight fixed on Marceline. “You coming with?” There was an ‘or’ hidden between the lines there. _Or are you happy where you are_?

No response was readily available for Bonnie to utilise, so she just sat there for a moment thinking about it. She’d just decided to spend the afternoon with her friends when Marceline spoke up. “I think I’ll look after her today, thanks.”

Bonnie whipped round to glare at Marceline, who just smiled at her, making her heart stop and her breath hitch and she was pretty much done by that point anyway. She sighed. It took surprisingly less effort than she’d thought to face Lucy again. “I guess I’m staying then,” she exhaled. “I’ll see you on the weekend.”

Lucy’s smile was just shy of malevolent glee. There would be stories everywhere by the time the sun set. “I’ll see you two on the weekend,” Lucy cackled.

“I’m coming?” Marceline asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Of course you’re coming,” Bonnie shot back without thinking. She regretted it instantly. “But not like that you’re not,” she added softly. 

She waved as Lucy (still looking like she’d just found the biggest pile of money buried in her backyard) bounced back over to Cherry. Braco was gone, thank goodness. Bonnie sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to be there.

“This weekend?” Marceline pressed. “I’m going with you to your mother’s party?”

“Yes,” she said, shoulders slumped. “As soon as they find out I have a roommate they’ll want to meet you. I might as well get it out of the way.”

Marceline’s smile was knowing and devious. “But not as your vampiric girlfriend I take it?”

“Let’s get ‘roommate’ out of the way before we cross that rickety bridge, please.”

“This is like _espionage_ , Bonnibel,” she laughed happily. “I’ve always wanted to be a spy… or a _ninja_. Oh, this is going to be fun.”

“You dress nicely for this party and I’ll even call you Bond,” Bonnie said wryly.

The smile she got for that made her melt. If she’d died right then, Bonnie probably wouldn’t have minded. “You have my word, Madame,” Marceline said in an affected accent. “I shall be the most gracious of ladies thou hast ever had the pleasure of being acquainted with.” She ruined it of course by flashing her teeth and wrapping her arms around Bonnie’s waist. “Promise,” she breathed into her ear. “And it _will_ be a pleasure.” 

Bonnibel fought valiantly to hold back the shiver that ran across her shoulders, but Marceline noticed just the same. And she wouldn’t let go either. This weekend was going to be a disaster.


	12. Candy Coated Misery

“So… why exactly do you live in Australia?”

Marceline paused in the act of sliding a dress off the rack and glanced over her shoulder. “Um… I’m not sure I understand the question.” Obviously deciding the pastel colour was not for her, Marceline let the hook clatter back into place and moseyed along the aisle. “And I only just moved here. To visit dad and Simon.”

“Whatever.” Bonnie followed her, watching carefully as she inspected each dress and then let it fall. “Australia has to be one of the sunniest countries in the world. I know you said sunlight doesn’t really bother you, but it still seems a weird choice.”

She ran one long grey finger along the edges of the dresses and circled around the end of the rack. She leaned on her arms across the top to stare at Bonnie impishly. “Yeah ok, I get that.” She shrugged. “My dad lives here permanently you know.”

“Why though?” 

“Of all the places in the world, the absolute _last_ place you’d look for… someone like us, is where it’s always sunny. You’d go to England first, wouldn’t you? Or… I dunno… somewhere rainy and overcast all the time. Not a place where it’s always hot and sunny.” She grinned. “Reverse psychology for magicals, righto?”

Bonnie bobbed her head, watching Marceline’s hands fiddle with lace on the collar of one dress. “Do what you’re not expected to,” she mused. That made sense in a perverted sort of way. But sunlight really _didn’t_ affect Marceline overly much, she’d seen that first hand.

“What about this one?” Bonnie lifted a blue dress off the rack and twisted it so Marceline could see. Her friend’s face contorted into a look of pure anguish. “No then.” Bonnie had thought shopping was easy, none of her other friends were as resistant to it as Marceline. She made something Bonnie had previously enjoyed a nightmare. She had no concept of _compromise_. And, to make it infinitely worse, this was _last minute_ shopping. Marceline had stubbornly avoided the task until the day before the party. It had made Bonnie very, very anxious. Now, she regretted insisting on it in the first place. It would have been much easier to let her wear something she already had. No stress. No whining.

“Can’t I just wear something… _normal_ ,” Marceline groaned, slumping across the rack. “Why do you have to torture me with all this fluffy rubbish?”

“You could wear something ‘normal’ if you defined the term the same way my parents do,” Bonnibel explained calmly for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. “And you promised to wear something nice. The next time you come to one of their parties you may wear your tattiest clothes. This time _I_ promise it.”

Marceline pouted. “When you said I had to wear something decent I thought you meant I could wear a… suit of some kind. I’m not a proper Bond without a suit. I reckon I could pull off a tux better than any of your high society boys.”

Bonnie snorted. “Maybe you would, but even the guys won’t be wearing _suits_.”

“So why do I have to wear a dress?” She threw her hands up in mock frustration. “I haven’t worn a dress since… since… Elizabeth.” Marceline hesitated. “And hard as they were to get in and out of, they were an awful lot of fun to flounce around in. Flying was fun in them too.”

“I never said you had to wear a dress, Marceline,” Bonnie said quietly. “Just that it had to be nice. Wait… You can fly?”

“I can do anything. If not a dress, what then?”

Grinning triumphantly, Bonnibel held up a double breasted light coat long enough to function as a dress but with shorter sleeves. It was ruffled at the hem and Marceline probably wouldn’t like it, but it was good enough to pass as a dress without actually _being_ a dress. “Wear some nice pants with it and you _might_ be okay.” Marceline eyed it dubiously. “Just try it on.” She waved the hanger in Marceline’s direction, huffing impatiently.

“With what?”

“Ugh.” Bonnie shoved the hook at Marceline’s chest and stormed off into another part of the store, grouching to herself the whole time. What a frustrating woman! She returned with a simple collared red top, a pair of dark grey pants, skinny, Marceline wouldn’t wear stockings if her life depended on it, but these would do, and a pair of shoes. Flats. For someone who had lived as long as Marceline, she was awfully against trying new things.

“Here,” she said darkly, tossing the clothes at Marceline. “Put them on. Then I’m never shopping with you again.”

At first she thought Marceline was hurt, then she just smirked and ducked into the change room. She flopped into a chair to wait. Honestly. It was one day; she should be able to deal with it for _one day_ surely.

The curtain to the change room was flung aside as Marceline bounded out. Bonnie’s breath caught. She’d expected Marceline to have turned what would usually be a respectable outfit into something grungy just by being the one wearing it. Turns out the opposite was true. She had the sleeves of the coat scrunched up at her elbows and the pants would have scuffs on the knees within half an hour, but she looked very nice. Not at all like a cheeky, irritating immortal.

“What d’ya think, Bon?” She was grinning so blindingly that Bonnie half wished she had sunglasses. Marceline could tell exactly what she thought. The buttons were undone on the coat-dress, but that didn’t matter, the shirt was done up to the second last silver button and… well…

“Looks good, Marceline,” she whispered, standing. “I think we can go.”

Marceline’s smile morphed slowly into the dark one that made her heart stutter to a halt. “Yeah? You’re not getting anything?”

“I have plenty of clothes I can pick from. Let’s go meet Rain.”

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Rain was waiting patiently by the fountain, fingers dancing across the screen of her phone, no doubt texting Jake, as they arrived. She glanced up and smiled at them, sliding the phone into her pocket. Jake and Finn would be meeting them later and so would Rob and Marshall… maybe.

“Hey guys,” she said happily. “You took longer than I thought. It was just a dress right?”

“I don’t wear dresses,” Marceline retorted.

Rain’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and she glanced at Bonnie sympathetically. “Well… ok then. I actually have to head back to my car for a minute. You can come with if you want.”

“Seriously, Rain?” Bonnie said, unimpressed. “That’s the complete other direction. We’ll go sit at the bakery.”

“Alright then,” Rain replied with a shrug. She was chipper a lot, but even this seemed a bit too chipper. Bonnibel frowned as she watched her friend trot back towards the car park.

“So…” Marceline said slyly. “You gonna tell them?”

“Tell them what, Marceline?” Bonnie asked softly, peering into storefronts as they passed.

Marceline pouted. “Don’t be stupid. You gonna tell them we’re dating?”

“We’re not dating. We sit in the lounge room watching movies and you eat a lot of food.”

“That’s dating, Bonnibel.”

“Oh. No I’m not telling them.”

Marceline gave her an incredulous look and slipped up onto the wall around the garden outside the bakery. She patted the spot next to her expectantly. “Why not, eh? Embarrassed?” She smirked.

“No,” Bonnie replied crossly, folding her arms. She refused to get up on the wall, it was probably dirty. “It’s… a little bit sillier than that.”

Still tapping her fingers on the stone, Marceline tilted her head. “Do explain. I love silly things.” 

She sighed, shimmying up onto the rock and smoothing her pants over her knees. “Well… my parents are… old fashioned.” Bonnie grimaced. “That’s putting it nicely. What they really are is intolerant and narrow-minded. They have a very definite idea of what’s conventional and anything that deviates from this is… improper.”

Marceline blinked. “They wouldn’t approve of… _this_?” She gestured between them slowly. “That’s… wow, out-dated. Homosexual relationships were common in… in… well; they’ve been common through most of human history. Your parents live in a little bubble don’t they?”

Bonnibel was bright red, she knew. “It’s not that they don’t like… gay people, they’re friends with some… but… They’ve placed certain expectations on Rob and I that can’t be met…”

“Expectations?” Marceline asked with a raised eyebrow.

The colour in her cheeks intensified. “Ugh. Family matters to them, heritage and heirlooms and all kinds of things like that. They want Rob and me to take over the family business and then get married so our kids can do it, and then our grandkids. Get where I’m going?”

Marceline nodded. “No biological grandkids if you’re gay. I get it. That’s still mean.”

“Just… don’t bring it up, ok? It’s fairly naïve of me, but I really hope if they like you as my roommate they might be more open to… other things.”

Marceline burst out laughing. “The word isn’t going to hurt you, Bonnie. It’s just a word. You can say it. You really are a wad, you know that? A real _princess_.”

“Hey,” she snapped. “That’s not called for.”

“Why do you care so much?” Marceline asked, forcing her laughter to subside. “There’s a whole string of things about me your uptight parents would hate; mortality notwithstanding. Relax for me.”

Bonnie’s lips compressed into a thin line. How could she explain her upbringing to Marceline? It wasn’t as simple as she made it out to be.

“Look,” she began slowly, testing each word before releasing it. “I… was raised in a very _particular_ way, in a very _particular_ society. There were rules we had to follow, certain things we weren’t allowed to do. Don’t use foul language, don’t do drugs, don’t smoke, don’t get tattoos, don’t hang out with the _wrong crowd_.” Marceline smirked as Bonnibel poked her in the shoulder, making her point. “Abide by the law, wear appropriate clothing, and so on. Studies were important because _graduating_ was important, but most parents put more emphasis on having a good social network than anything else. Because knowing people gets you more than being genuinely good at something.

“Consequently I’ve been disappointing my family for years. I actually _like_ learning things and I dislike parties. Organising them I can do, attending them… not so much. I can dress the way they want me to, talk, carry myself, everything else. But I failed them miserably in one very important way: I never cared about socialising and worse, dating.”

She exhaled heavily, avoiding Marceline’s eyes. “I never wanted to date. I went out because they asked me to, because they threatened me sometimes. Not the way you’re thinking either, they knew better than that, my books were my life. I did it because it was sort of a responsibility to my family. I did it to make them happy, they were nice guys and all sure, but my studies were more important to me. Now I’ve let them down again and I can already see the disappointment in their eyes. It hurts to know that I’m not what they wanted, Marceline.”

Surprising her, Marceline wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “That stinks, Bon,” she whispered into the top of her head.

Bonnie barked a laugh. “What, no jokes?”

“Nope, that’s a serious thing. You need a serious hug.” But Marceline was smiling again, Bonnie could feel it. “There will be no sadness, alright? I don’t like it when you’re sad.” She pulled back and stared more intently into Bonnie’s eyes than… well, ever. “I like happy Bonnibel much better.”

“Thanks,” Bonnie whispered, smiling again. “But I can’t have cake and eat it too. There is no pleasing my folks.”

Marceline beamed. “You think I’m cake? That’s horrible.” Bonnibel punched her shoulder. “What about your friends though? Surely we can tell them?”

“Let’s not. Just in case. Lucy hears everything you know.”

In a shocking first, Marceline grimaced. “I want cake. Let’s get afternoon tea since we’re just sitting here. Do they have strawberry tart?”

“Probably,” Bonnie muttered, glad that Marceline was good at distracting her.

They had just sat down to eat (Marceline pleased to note that they did indeed have strawberry tart) when Rain came bouncing up to them. She collapsed into a spare chair, grinning like a fool. There wasn’t even a comment about them getting food while she was away.

“Guess what?” she effused. 

Bonnibel raised an eyebrow. “What?” Marceline kept eating.

“Jake asked me to move in with him!”

Now Marceline stopped eating. She placed her spoon on the edge of her plate slowly and put her best thoughtful face on. “Correct me if I’m wrong… but doesn’t Jake still share a teeny tiny apartment with Finn? A ramshackle place that shouldn’t really be supporting one life form let alone two.”

“He used to,” Rain said excitedly. “He bought a place not far from where I live. I’m so glad I won’t have to live with those college kids anymore. They keep the absolute worst hours.” Marceline grinned impishly. Yeah, so… no one kept worse hours than she did.

“That’s great, Rain,” Bonnie said. “But what about Finn? Does he have someplace to go?”

Rain nodded. “Of course. Apparently he and Jake have been thinking about this for a while. He’s moving in with a girl in his class called Bianca Moe. She’s an IT guru, he says. Finn reckons it’ll be great because she’s the only girl he knows who plays video games.”

Water nearly came out Marceline’s nose when she saw Bonnie’s scandalised expression. “Unlike you, Bonnie dear,” Marceline chuckled. “Finn has no compunctions about living with someone of the opposite gender. And I _dare say_ there will be fewer complications in their relationship too.”

Bonnibel could’ve slapped her. Rain, luckily, didn’t read into it. “Yeah,” she said. “Bonnibel’s parents have some pretty strange rules. You don’t have to live by them though, Elle.”

Bonnie’s face soured. “Trust me, Rain. I don’t live by them. But I… Hey who is that?”

“Oh my god,” Marceline groaned, sinking down into her chair. “That’s Marshall.”

“What is he _wearing_?” Rain asked breathily. It was a strange sight to be sure. He was in a pink polo shirt, top three buttons undone, off-white slacks and tennis shoes. His hair was combed.

“Sup, ladies,” he snickered. “You all look gobsmacked.”

“What are you wearing?” Marceline reiterated Rain’s question. “The country club is the other way.”

“Ha, ha,” he replied dryly. “I told Bub that he needed to dress differently now and then. But he decided that if he was going to wear other things I had to as well. Not the worst I’ve ever been caught in, but still…” He grumbled and sat down beside Rain who was still staring at him like he was an alien. And with good reason: his wardrobe had less variation than Marceline’s.

“Where is Rob?” Bonnie asked anxiously. This could turn out very badly and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to see what Marshall had dressed her brother up in.

“Coming,” Marshall replied cheerily. Sure enough, Rob slouched up a mere minute later wearing a collarless black shirt and equally dark skinny jeans. The tee had some sort of print on it that Rob was trying to conceal behind a red and black striped over shirt. His hair was a mess, a carefully calculated mess and he had a leather band (no doubt Marshall’s) clasped around one wrist. High tops, Bonnie’s jaw dropped, her brother was wearing high tops. Even his glasses looked odd. It was, she realised, because they were black too and rather more clunky that the ones he normally sported. His face was bright red.

“Hello,” he said softly. He sat down in his precise manner next to Bonnibel, as far from Marshall as he could get. “Sorry we’re late. Marshall had a fashion catastrophe.”

“Nah,” Marceline said with a wave of one hand. “I think _you’re_ the one with the fashion catastrophe. Bub… what even is all that?”

“Marshall bought them for me,” he sighed, hands folded neatly in his lap. “Embarrassing, huh?”

Marceline snorted. “Only a little.” Bonnibel shot her a dark look. “Looks like you Bubblegums are a bad influence on us both. Psh, getting us to wear clothes we wouldn’t be caught dead in a year ago. What is this?” She was smiling at Bonnie though, clearly just amused.

Marshall nodded at his sister. “What’d she get you to wear, huh? You look just the same to me.”

“You coming to the Bubble-bash on the weekend?” Marceline asked him. He nodded briskly; both of them ignoring the indignant glares shot their way by Bonnie and Rob. “I guess you’ll see then… then.”

“When will Finn and Jake be joining us, Rain?” Rob asked. That was his way of politely changing the subject and the Abadeers knew it. Honestly it was hard to take him seriously dressed as he was.

She shook her head. “They won’t. Jake’s helping Finn move in to his new place.” That elicited surprised mutters from both boys and Rain had to explain again. Which got another incensed and shocked expression from Rob and a reaction from Marshall very similar to the one Marceline had had earlier.

“Right then,” Marshall declared, throwing himself upright. His chair screeched horribly as it scraped across the pavement. “We can see a movie without them. It is a _fine_ day to be in air conditioning. And I for one am not going to miss out on movie afternoon because Finn has a girlfriend.”

“I don’t think that’s quite what Rain was saying, Marshall,” Robert told him, standing as well. “But I do agree about the movie.”

The three women exchanged amused glances before following suit. Of course, once they made it to the theatre they had a heated discussion about exactly _which_ movie they should see. Neither of the Bubblegums wanted to see a horror movie and the other twins were adamantly against a ‘cliché, vomit inducing chick flick’. That made Rain the decider and she loved it. Action it was. And despite a few muttered grumbles about it to begin with, and much film deconstruction during, none of them had such a bad time.

“Action movies are just… ridiculous,” Marceline announced confidently as they filed out. “Cars don’t explode like that.”

“And,” her brother added with a raised finger. “One canister of petroleum does not blow up half a city block. _Regardless_ of how many petrol stations are in that area. It just doesn’t work like that.”

“I thought you’d like something like that, Marceline,” Rob mentioned.

“Normally I would,” she replied with a puzzled expression. “I think I’ve been living with a brainiac for too long.” She turned to Marshall. “Swap with me.”

“I don’t think so, sis,” he laughed. “I couldn’t stand it. Not after I’ve finally managed to get Bub to loosen up a little. No thanks. You can keep the princess.”

Bonnie was livid and bright red. “I am not a princess,” she growled venomously.

“Not with that voice you aren’t,” Rain chimed in. 

Still laughing, Marceline asked, “Are we getting dinner then?”

Marshall and Rob looked at each other. Rain pulled out her phone. Bonnie blinked.

“Sorry guys,” Rain sighed. “I have to go meet Jake. I’m eating with him at Finn’s new place tonight. He says I should meet Bianca. Maybe next time.”

“We already have food plans too,” Marshall said slowly. “Some of Bub’s less boring and prudish friends are coming over to play table tennis. I’m going to crush them all.”

“Next time we’ll do something though,” Rob added. He didn’t even comment on the ‘prude’ thing.

“Meh, that’s ok,” Marceline said with a wave of her hand. “We don’t need you lot to have a good time, do we Bon?” The smile on her face was terrifying.

“I imagine we’ll be eating popcorn and chocolate for dinner again then?” Bonnie asked, sweating under Marceline’s gaze. She didn’t have any concept of ‘subtlety’ either.

“You know you love eating poorly,” Marceline grinned. “Let’s go. Later dorks.”

It was true to some degree; Bonnie didn’t mind eating unhealthily sometimes. But Marceline could get away with eating what she liked; Bonnie still did her best to eat right. Even if Marceline would glower at most vegetables. Tomatoes she hated especially for some reason, but strawberries and apples were acceptable. The woman had the strangest tastes.

Their fold out couch was rarely ever a couch anymore; it just remained spread across the living space. Unless they had guests over that is. A permanently unfolded bed would raise questions. Tonight though, Bonnie stubbornly refused to watch a movie. She ate dinner, showered and collapsed on her bed.

Tomorrow was her mother’s garden party and for the first time ever, she was worried about going. Things with her parents had never been simple, they always managed to twist things up on her, but this was the very first time _she’d_ ever done the twisting. Marceline was a spanner in the works she hadn’t seen coming and – she realised – Bonnie didn’t want her to go either. Her parents had a habit of blocking people from her life if they didn’t want them there. Vampire or not, Bonnibel still worried that they’d try something unforgiveable.

She rolled over to stare at her clock. The little numbers read not long after midnight. She’d been lying in the dark with her thoughts for hours, unable to sleep. Sighing, she hauled herself up; knowing of at least one thing that never failed to put her out.

“Sup, Bon? Can’t sleep?”

Marceline was awake – no surprises – she was sitting on her swivel chair watching a show on the computer. She took her headphones off and spun around, smiling softly. Bonnie stopped in the doorway, wondering if what she was about to do could be forgotten later. Probably not.

“I’m worried… about tomorrow,” she admitted. Marceline stood and came over to her, taking her hand and peering into her eyes.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay, you know,” she said softly. “I did promise to behave. No screwing things up. Honest.”

As if that would help her sleep. “Will you… sing me to sleep?” Marceline blinked, clearly surprised by the request. Then her childish half-smile appeared, bright and cheery as ever and she dragged Bonnie over to the bed, pressing her down. Marceline leaned against the headboard, wrapped one arm around Bonnie and started murmuring soft lyrics.

“ _I know that the bridges that I’ve burned along the way,_  
 _Have left me with these walls and these scars that won’t go away._  
 _And opening up has always been the hardest thing._  
 _Until you came._  
 _So lay here, beside me, just hold me and don’t let go._  
 _This feeling, I’m feeling, is something I’ve never known._  
 _And I just can’t take my eyes off you._  
 _And I just can’t take my eyes off you._  
 _I love when you tell me that I’m pretty when I just wake up._  
 _And I love how you tease me when I’m moody, but it’s never too much._  
 _I’m falling fast, but the truth is I’m not scared at all._  
 _You’re climbing my walls…_ ”

Bonnie could feel Marceline’s eyes on her, heard the words, knew what they meant, but she was so tired. So incredibly tired. Her heart racing, aching; her fingers knotted painfully in Marceline’s shirt; throat dry. She did like music after all, Marceline’s music. Sleep claimed her.


	13. What Can I Say?

It was rather late, almost 10am, when Bonnibel woke up. Marceline was no longer beside her, she was in her chair, feet propped up on the desk, reading. Or not reading anymore. Her brown eyes were staring over the top of her book (which looked to have been forgotten for a while), just gazing at Bonnie. It was a funny expression written in her eyes; partly that slow, dark look she often got, and part… dazed bewilderment, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly in a smile, sending a tingle along Bonnie’s spine.

“Good morning,” Bonnibel whispered as Marceline stood. “Did you sleep?”

Marceline sat herself on the edge of the bed, still seeming a little bit lost in her own mind. “Um… yes I think I did for a while.” She felt her breathing snag and her heart beat just a little bit faster under the intense brown stare. “I called my dad,” Marceline muttered, fiddling with Bonnie’s hair in absent fingers. “We can go and see him in a few days.”

“About…?” Bonnie asked around a lump in her throat.

“About you and Simon. He has all the facilities you’ll need and it’s not someplace too many questions will be asked. Actually, I doubt anyone will wonder at all.”

“Why? Won’t it be weird?”

Marceline shook her head infinitesimally. “All the people who work with… _for_ , my dad are thralls. They won’t find it anything out of the ordinary. _You_ will be the curiosity, not the sciencey stuff you’ll be doing. Mortals aren’t common there.”

“Oh,” she sighed. “Will it be… alright though? No one will be put out by me being there?”

Marceline’s face split in a grin. “You’re going to be in a building with a large number of immortals and semi-immortals – some of them of questionable sanity – and you’re worried about _them_?” She chuckled and kissed Bonnie on the forehead. “You are the weirdest human I’ve ever known, Bonnibel.”

“Mmm,” she replied. “I should probably get ready for my mother’s thing today.” She slid her legs out of the bed, brushing past Marceline.

“Bon, there’s still hours,” Marceline whined. “It’s not even lunch yet. We’ve got ages.” She paused, standing. “Wait… you said ‘you’… am I not coming now?”

Bonnibel glanced over her shoulder and gasped. Marceline was… floating. Mouth agape, Bonnie gestured to the anomaly and Marceline smirked.

“Told you I could fly, Bon,” she chuckled. “Am I coming with today or what?”

“Of course you’re coming with me,” Bonnie said, ducking into her room. Her stomach was rather unhappy with her, but she decided it was too late in the morning to be eating breakfast. She’d have lunch in an hour. “And it’s quite a drive, nearly two hours. They live way out of town.”

Marceline snorted. “Rich people.”

“I heard that, you big hypocrite.”

Marceline did her best to calm Bonnie down, but she was doing her darnedest to come as close to a mental breakdown now so it didn’t happen later. Of course, with Marceline constantly floating after her, unable to escape short of leaving the apartment, a breakdown just wouldn’t come. Bonnibel came close on one occasion, but Marceline materialised beside her the moment her breathing grew too close to hyperventilation, wrapped her arms around her and kissed her. That was all, but it was plenty enough to make Bonnie’s mind go blank. With Marceline’s lips on her neck, thought seemed like such a difficult concept.

“You need to take a chill pill, babe,” Marceline breathed into her ear.

Bonnie’s fingers tightened reflexively in Marceline’s top, holding her close. Then what she said finally clicked. “Marcy… did you just call me… ‘ _babe’_?”

Marceline pressed her lips to the skin just below Bonnie’s ear, trailing whispering kisses along her jaw, making her shiver. “I did. Got a problem with that?”

Bonnibel’s other hand joined the first in Marceline’s shirt (she was still in her pyjamas at _midday_ ). “Uh-uh,” she exhaled. “Nope.”

“You relaxed yet?” Marceline snickered.

“I think I’m pretty good.” She turned Marceline’s face to meet her lips properly, then made herself let go. “We should get ready now.” Surprising her, Marceline actually did get changed. She did look nice when she dressed up. That didn’t stop her from grouching about it though. Bonnibel herself put on a simple yellow sundress, nothing fancy, it was just her parents after all.

As Bonnie slid into the driver’s seat, she tried not to think about the party. It was stupid to be nervous, stupid to be so worried about everything. Her parents would either like Marceline, or they wouldn’t. The question she kept putting to herself though was would it matter to her if her parents really _did_ disapprove? 

She thought about it for a long minute, staring at her white knuckles clenched around the wheel. No, she eventually decided, it wouldn’t matter, not really. Easy enough to think, but only time would tell if it was true.

Marceline put on her most obnoxious and confident smile, patted her knee and slipped a disc into the CD player. “It’ll be fine, Bon,” she said, as reassuringly as she could manage. “People have disliked me before. I can handle it.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Bonnie murmured, starting the engine.

“Are you really such a goody-two-shoes that you’ve never done _anything_ they’ve condemned before? Not one thing?”

She nodded. “Pretty much. I hate disappointing them.”

“Wow.” She sounded immeasurably surprised by that. Then her cocky smile slanted across her mouth, Bonnie’s heart fluttered as always. “There’s a first for everything, Bonnie. Besides, you’re a full grown human bean; you can do what you like.”

“Human bean?” she asked quizzically, glad for something other than her parents to think on.

Marceline shrugged. “Just something I say.”

It was a two hour drive to her parents’ place, way outside of town. Way outside. They lived in an almost rural area where every house was built on acreage and was situated at the end of a ridiculously long drive. Houses were spaced well apart, one long out of sight before the next came into view and all. Some had paddocks with animals; reminisce of a farm, most had a pool of some description and quite a number had other eccentric things that only rich people would even think they needed.

Her parents’ house was a sprawling two-story affair made of grey stone, red brick and plasterboard. A pair of chimneys (rarely used in Australia, they were more for decoration) jutted from peaked roofs of a dark tile. Big bay windows filled the front walls, curtains drawn at present and the double doors, made of rich mahogany, stood beneath an arched patio, welcome mat placed precisely at the top of three white stairs.

The driveway was paved; her parents were just that narcissistic that they had to pave the whole length of it – nearly a kilometre. Trees surrounded the house and the oval parking space in front. A larger parking space was situated behind the house; an enclosed pathway connecting two separate halves of the house formed a bridge over the driveway to the garage. Several cars were already pulled up in front of the house, but most people would be in the back yard, which, as with everything else her parents owned, was somewhat on the large side.

“Holy spongecake,” Marceline said lowly as they pulled up beside a little purple hatchback that could only belong to Lucy. “Your folks really know how to make an impression. I mean, I’ve seen a lot of houses in my time, but still. Wow.” She glanced over at Bonnibel who was fidgeting, nerves back with force. “You okay, Bon? We don’t have to go in you know.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Once we get around there it won’t be too bad. It’s just my mum I’m really worried about.”

Marceline smiled. “She the more judgemental of the two, eh?”

“You might say that.”

“Hey.” Marceline took her hand and leaned over, kissing her cheek. “It’ll be fine, Bonnie. They’re your parents. And they can hardly react to me worse than Marshall. Ten buck says he doesn’t even wear something nice.”

Bonnie just pulled a face and stared through the windscreen. Marceline sighed, getting out and moving to her side of the car, opening the door and bending down. “Look at me, Bonnibel,” she said. She did. “This is a party, alright? They are your friends and family. It’s going to be just fine.” Marceline grabbed her hand again and pulled her from the car. “Let’s go. I’m on my best behaviour, remember? That doesn’t happen a great deal.”

When Marceline turned her impish half-smile in Bonnie’s direction, everything seemed alright and with a resigned sigh, she locked the car. “You better make an excellent first impression, Abadeer,” she growled.

Marceline positively beamed. “I won you over, didn’t I?” That was certainly true. Maybe it wouldn’t be a _complete_ ruin after all. Maybe.

“Bonnibel! Hey, you’re here!” Candy shot to her feet as they walked under the arch and into the backyard. It was mostly grass and stretched up to a hill before sloping down into a great big field. To the left was the garage and a tennis court, to the right, past the deck, was a labyrinth made out of a hedge that her mother told her was supposed to represent life. Her parents were so weird. 

Candy bounced over to them, eyes alternating between excited when she looked at Bonnie and curious when she saw Marceline. “How have you been? Lucy and Cherry said they saw you the other day but I was busy. Come on, come on, you have to tell me absolutely _everything_.”

“Your friends are very enthusiastic,” Marceline whispered to her as they followed Candy back over to the wicker and glass table. Several were positioned around the yard (it was really more of a paddock, if she was honest) but most had been dragged together. Not something her mother would do, but it was infinitely more useful.

Bonnie shrugged. “I think it’s in the water.” Marceline smirked. “Hey Candy, how about you tell me how _you’ve_ been first. Did you ever move in with Cherry?”

She shook her head. “No, things got a little complicated there.”

“Oh?” Bonnie pressed, raising one eyebrow. Lucy was just trotting down the stairs of the deck with a young man on her arm. One Bonnie didn’t recognise. What a surprise. “And where is everyone? I thought they’d all be out here already.”

Candy waved a hand vaguely. “Norman went… over there with Cherry earlier. They’re dating now, that’s why I didn’t move in with her. And… oh, Lucy you’re back. That was fast.”

Lucy sank into a chair beside Candy, her new fellow right next to her as though he thought she’d vanish in a puff of smoke. She might too; Lucy went through guys faster than Marceline went through food. Her eyes glittered knowingly in a way pretty much everyone had come to fear over the years, but she seemed totally at a loss regarding Marceline.

“Just a quick walk,” she said casually. “I saw Elle’s car coming up the drive and figured we should get back over here. Who’s this?” Dangerous waters had just been entered. Sadly, Marceline was completely oblivious. Or she was just being rash.

She stuck out one pale hand and the sunlight made her look nearly transparent. “I’m Marceline,” she said, grinning blindingly. “Bonnie’s roommate.”

“Cool,” Candy said, taking the hand. “I’m Candice, but… everyone calls me Candy.” She beamed. “So good Elle finally found someone to share that apartment with. We all worry.”

“Yes,” Lucy replied slowly, her turn now to take the hand. “I’m Lucy; it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her blue eyes turned on Bonnie. “Where is that lovely young fellow you met the other day? Michael, wasn’t it?”

Bonnie inhaled deeply. She’d thought long and hard about her excuse for this question. Something simple and easy to remember. She hoped it was good enough. “He works in the same office as me,” she explained. “The one I do research for. He’s the paper boy. We’re just friends.” Bonnie sucked at lying and she sent a silent prayer to the heavens that this one would be believed.

Lucy’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t look like ‘ _just friends_ ’ to me,” she replied too sweetly. “Not at all. Quite the opposite in fact.”

“You should have your eyes checked then,” Bonnie said flatly, trying to keep her tone even.

“So still no guys then, Elle?” Candy put forth, thankfully saving her from the interrogation.

“I don’t date guys, Candy,” she said. “You know that. I’ve been telling you for years that I want nothing to do with them.” She paused, glancing at Lucy’s man. “Speaking of guys though, who’s this, Lucy?”

“The name’s Daniel,” he told her in a smoky voice. Oh yes, just Lucy’s type. He flashed a row of perfect white teeth and offered her his hand.

She took it hesitantly. There was always a story to go with Lucy’s beaus. She wondered what this one was. It probably wasn’t polite to ask in front of him though. Instead, she queried, “So what happened to Brad?”

As Lucy was opening her mouth a horn blared out the front of the house. Then a door slammed and a blue-clad streak burst into the yard. It was followed somewhat more sedately by the aforementioned Brad.

“Oh,” Bonnie said surprised. “He’s dating Melissa now. Did _not_ see that coming.”

Marceline shook her head, amused. “You lot have more drama than a rom-com that takes itself too seriously. Geez. This is like an episode of…” she snapped her fingers. “What was that rubbish show called? _The Bold and the Beautiful_. Honestly.”

Lucy glared at her, Bonnie elbowed her sharply in the ribs, Daniel gave her an understanding look and Candy just kept smiling. Melissa and Brad didn’t deign to even greet them; instead they headed off towards the hill. How polite of them. Bonnie _tched_.

“Sorry to hear about that, Lucy,” Bonnibel consoled her friend. “That must’ve been awful. You don’t talk to Melissa anymore do you?”

Her friend looked away, Daniel resting his hand on one of hers. “A little,” she finally admitted. “But not as much as we used to.” Then she may have called Melissa a name that Bonnie didn’t want to know about.

Candy – finding herself in her usual role of mediator – opened her mouth to change the subject to something less awkward. However, just as Lucy had been interrupted before, she was interrupted now. A low roar filled the air and Marceline perked up, clearly it was a sound she knew.

“Oh man,” she whispered, standing. A motorbike powered underneath the arch and shuddered to a stop. Garbed in black leather, a young man pulled off an equally black helmet and gloves, swinging his leg over the side of the bike. He flipped his blonde hair off his face and grinned arrogantly at them. But Marceline wasn’t looking at him. She was too busy ogling his bike.

Bonnie had no idea what the bike was: black, that was all she could tell, but Marceline was very impressed. She wandered over to the guy and his vehicle, eyes glued to the machine. Pretty soon she was having an animated conversation with the fellow.

“Oh my,” Lucy breathed. “Drama bomb. Do you recognise him, Elle? I didn’t even know he was back in the country.”

“It’s Charlie,” Candy added in an equally soft voice. Her head was on one side. “Wow, flashback. How you doing over there, Elle?” 

They were teasing her and that rankled. So she’d had a schoolgirl crush on the guy years ago. He’d left the whole country before they even finished their senior year and they’d never dated. What Charlie King was doing here though, she’d never understand. Her parents didn’t hate a single person in the whole world more than they loathed every last inch of him. That was mostly due to rumours spread by Lucy, but still.

Candy poked her in the ribs. “Looks like your roommate’s really hitting it off with him,” she sang. “Jealous?”

She snorted. “Why would I be jealous? Didn’t I just say not five minutes ago that I’m not interested in dating?” _Guys_ , she amended in her head. _Not interested in dating_ guys.

“Psh, so? You totally had a thing for him,” Candy pressured.

“That was nearly seven years ago, Candice,” she replied flatly. “Lucy, did you invite him?” She wouldn’t put it past her meddling friend to have done just that.

“I’m appalled by the very suggestion,” she said, mouth agape, a vision of scandalised. “I take what you say very seriously, Bonnibel.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Marceline came practically dancing back over to them with Charlie not far behind. “Oh man,” she repeated. “I have _always_ wanted a bike. Seriously, that’d be so freaking _cool_.” She fell back into her chair right beside Bonnie. The look she shot Charlie as he’d tried to take it was pure venom.

“Why don’t you get one then?” Daniel questioned.

“Uh… huh,” she groaned sheepishly. “Yeah… no. Bad idea.” It took Bonnie a minute to work out why it was a bad idea and why she couldn’t just tell them. Of course, vampires don’t have reflections, so it’d look really odd to anyone in their rear-view mirror to see a motorbike ridden by no one. And no way to explain that to Bonnie’s friends. “I’m a bit of a klutz,” she said instead. “My dad’s always telling me I shouldn’t operate heavy machinery. You should have seen the look on his face when I said I wanted a drivers’ licence. Gold.”

And that was enough for them. Marceline could lie through her teeth and no one ever suspected a thing. Bonnie made a mental note to ask for lessons later.

“So when’s Hubba Bubba getting here?” Candy asked in her sing-song voice. “I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Should be soon I would think,” Bonnie mused. “Be interesting to see if his… um… what did he call it?” she asked Marceline.

“Fashion catastrophe,” she supplied.

“Right. It’ll be interesting to see if his fashion catastrophe has lasted.”

“What does that mean?” Lucy asked with a sly glance. “Bubba’s always had impeccable fashion sense.”

Marceline burst out laughing. “Oh yes. He has _excellent_ taste in women’s clothes.”

“Marceline!” Bonnie exclaimed.

“What?”

They all laughed. Ok, so maybe Rob wore pink too much. That was still no cause for such a comment. She glowered at her unrepentant roommate.

And as if his name was a summons, Robert strolled through the arch dragging a very unhappy Marshall by the sleeve. Lucy and Candy both straightened the same way they had when Charlie had taken off his helmet. Eyes fixed on her brother and his antagonised friend in a way she didn’t at all like. It was much the same look that Marceline was ignoring from Charlie.

“Who is _that_?” Candy asked breathily.

“My brother,” Marceline replied simply. Lucy and Candy just stared at her for a moment.

“He’s cute,” Candy muttered.

“Don’t tell him that,” Marceline guffawed. “It’ll go to his head.”

Happily, Robert was dressed in his usual attire: red and white checked collared shirt and… wait… red pants? No, that was unusual. Skinny jeans in a dark shade of carmine. How peculiar. Marshall was dressed as always too, white shirt, black pants. He’d made one concession: a black vest… oh and the shirt had a collar. But otherwise about normal.

“What d’ya reckon, Bon?” Marceline asked. “Is that ten bucks mine?”

“I dunno, Marcy,” she replied in a deliberately annoying voice. “He _is_ wearing a collared shirt. This is very unusual for him. And that vest looks alright.”

Marceline sighed. “A’ight, benefit of the doubt then. I’ll buy you something on the way home. How’s that?”

“You mean you’re going to buy me _food_ on the way home,” Bonnie grumbled. “Make it ice-cream and you have yourself a deal.”

“Excellent.”

Lucy shot them a baffled look – questions would be asked later. Then she went back to staring at the guys. Questions would probably be asked about that too. But (as appeared to be a theme this afternoon) she was interrupted before the words were even formed.

“Bonnibel, Robert.”

They both looked up at the sound of their mother’s voice from the back deck. She stared at them for a long minute, her face a conflicted blend of disapproving glare and pleased smile. Her dress over the top as usual and a bright crimson colour, her long blonde hair drawn neatly into a pile of braids atop her head. Bonnie’s heart sank.

“Bring your new friends inside for a moment.”

She and Marceline exchanged glances and Bonnie was given the exact half-smile she needed, part blinding, part reassuring, all arrogance. They stood and fell in beside their brothers as they went inside. What could she say? Marceline had better have taken her acting pills with breakfast, or Bonnibel might just have a heart attack yet.


	14. Your Heart Not Be Troubled

When her mother said ‘inside’ what she meant was somewhat negotiable. Their dining area had a series of concertina glass doors that opened up all along one wall so that it was pretty much outside anyway. A wooden table (larger than a family of four needed, as with everything else) sat in the centre, a kitchen to do a cooking guru proud along one wall and another bench with barbeque on the other. As she expected, the parents of all her friends were there, seated up one end having an overly loud conversation. The Pinterry’s were overly loud about most things though, that’s where Lucy got it from.

Naturally family belonging to Charlie and Daniel was absent. If they don’t belong to her mother’s circle of _approved_ families, they weren’t worth talking to. Her father was over at the barbeque, grumbling, tan shirt perfectly pressed, grey pants equally so. He turned when they walked in and conversation around the table cut off abruptly.

Marceline fiddled beside her, uncomfortable being the centre of attention. Conversely, Marshall was wearing a broad grin, hands in his pockets, looking like a real dork. No amount of well-presented attire would ever cover that up.

“Hello, kids,” their father said brightly, wiping his hands on a towel. He crossed the room to hug them both fiercely. Bonnie loved her father dearly for his modest roots, something their mother had no concept of. “How have you been? Who are your new friends here?” He smiled at the Abadeers and looked them up and down. Unlike Bonnie’s mother, her father, Alexander Bubblegum, was a tolerant man, his wife’s ideas of how society should be was impressed on his psyche, but he was the more open minded of the two. Easily accepting Marceline’s awkward way of wearing her clothes and Marshall’s uncertainly arrogant posture.

“This is Marceline and Marshall Abadeer,” Robert told him softly. “They moved in with us a few months back.”

His smile broadened and he shook hands with both of them vigorously. “Pleasure to meet you. Pleasure. I’m Alex,” he said warmly. The look Marceline gave Bonnie was one of such pure confusion it was almost comical. “That’s my wife, Cynthia,” he went on, indicating Bonnie’s mother. “And these are our friends. Do make yourselves at home.”

Of course, as soon as ‘living together’ was brought up, her mother’s ears swivelled upright and her eyes narrowed. She hustled back over with a smile that would’ve fooled anyone not as long lived as the Abadeers. It wasn’t a scary or malicious smile, but it was calculating and concerned. Still, she offered a hand and a polite introduction before asking what she really wanted to know.

“You live with Robert, do you, Marceline?”

And of course, the brighter-than-the-sun smile Marceline gave her wasn’t as reassuring as the words that went with it. “No, I live with Bonnie. For as long as she’s willing to put up with me.” There it was; the last bit. Innocuous as it might seem to anyone else, it would sound cheeky and rebellious and everything Cynthia wanted her daughter to stay away from. The smirk worn by Marshall wasn’t going to alleviate her opinion.

All the same, tension left her mother visibly. There would be no living with a _boy_ for Bonnie, not if she had anything to say about it. It was sort of ironic that the she didn’t know Marceline was just the exact problem she feared from a guy. No living with someone you’re dating, a cardinal rule, broken. It made Bonnie smile. 

“Well, come and sit,” Cynthia said with a much more natural smile now. “Please. I’d love to know everything about you.” 

How untrue that statement was.

Yet they sat and pleasantries were exchanged. Alex was still at the barbeque muttering angrily about something but everyone else focused on the other twins. Rob was about to go and help him, natural cook that he was, but Marceline beat him to it, leaping to her feet. She hustled around to Alex and they began to tinker.

“Well,” Cynthia began. “What do you do for a living, Marshall?”

He puffed up his cheeks looking sheepish and rubbed the side of his neck. Huh, that’s odd; Marceline did the exact same thing. “Bit of everything really. Done a lot of stuff, been a lot of places.”

A vague answer like that wouldn’t be enough for Cynthia though. “Such as what? Where are you from?” So many questions and Bonnibel didn’t want to give her mother too much time to ask them. They’d be out of here as soon as they possibly could.

“Born in England,” he said slowly, thinking. “Our mother died when we were… young.” He sort of sidestepped the truth there, but it didn’t matter. “Dad and his friend raised us.”

“You mean Simon raised us,” Marceline added from the cooker. “Dad never had a great deal of time for kids. Not after mum died.”

“Simon is dad’s closest friend,” Marshall went on, pretty much ignoring his sister. “He’s practically our uncle.” He grinned. “Then… we travelled. Sometimes together, sometimes separately… sometimes I just can’t stand her.” Marceline laughed at that, good-naturedly. “Lived in America for a long time. Lots to do there. I don’t really know.” He shrugged. “I’ve done a lot of things.”

“But what kind of things,” Cynthia pressed.

He cocked his head and gave one of those half-smiles he and Marceline had in common. “Been a farmer, a soldier, a mason, a cook”

“A bad cook,” Marceline put in. “I was always better at that than you.”

“Psh, so? Trained horses for a while,” he shrugged again. “I’ve done just about everything.”

“Except business.” Marceline lifted a finger. “Anything maths, science or economical we’ve both always found hard to grasp. That’s dad’s forte. And try as he might, he’ll never get me in formal wear sitting in an office or whatever. No sir, not for me.”

Cynthia blinked. Clearly she hadn’t expected them to say anything like that. “Do you… play sports? What kind of education did you have? Are you currently employed?” _Honestly_ , Bonnie sighed inwardly. 

Marceline and Alex stepped back from the cooker as it finally sputtered to life and he thanked her warmly. She didn’t come and sit back down though, instead opting to help him cook. Robert looked put out – that was usually his job.

“I’ve played some things,” Marshall was saying slowly. “I don’t like to get too invested in sports. I don’t much like the commitment.” Ooh, wrong thing to say, Marshall. “Soccer’s my favourite I suppose.”

“Only because you get a kick out of smashing the ball at people,” Marceline chuckled at the joke. “You always liked hockey too because they pretty much give you a weapon and say ‘yeah, let loose’. Very much your style.”

Marshall’s mouth twisted. “At least I don’t play… what is it… croquet? That game is _so ungodly boring_.” He sighed, dropping his head to the table. “Or…” he grumbled into the wood, snapping his fingers as he thought. “Or… polo. I never did get that either.”

“That’s because you suck at riding horses, brother dear,” Marceline said sweetly. “Train them you can do, ride them… mmm… not so much.”

He sat bolt upright and jabbed a finger at her. “I don’t play _chess_ either, you closet geek.” It was a triumphant look he wore now.

Marceline’s hands froze in flipping the patties.

“You play chess, Marceline?” her mother interjected, ending their verbal game of tennis.

Slowly, very reluctantly, Marceline turned. “I… do. Yes.” Her brow furrowed, clearly worried where this was going. “Why?”

“You don’t seem like the type of person who would play chess,” Cynthia noted. “That’s all. Very surprising that you play croquet and polo, I’ll be honest.”

This time, Marceline grinned. “What can I say, Mrs B? I’m just full of surprises.”

“Perhaps you’d like to play a game later, Marceline,” Bonnibel said with a short smile. “We have a life sized set in the centre of the maze. I’ll show you.”

Marceline’s jaw dropped. “A life sized set? In a maze? You have a maze? Why on _earth_ do you have a maze? And how did I not see that?”

They laughed at the look on her face. “Don’t feel bad, Marceline,” Robert chuckled. “It’s got camouflage gear.”

Cynthia’s attention left the twins and returned to whatever conversation she’d been having before they arrived. That was tantamount to being released from interrogation and Bonnie took no time in standing. Rob wasn’t far behind her and Marshall was back outside before either of them.

“So you’re a cook, Marceline,” Alex was saying as Bonnie wandered closer. “That must be fun.”

“Um… I guess?”

He chortled. “Probably for the best that you can, Bonnibel can’t cook to save herself.”

“I’m right here, dad,” Bonnie said flatly.

Marceline pulled a face. “She can cook some things…” She glanced over at Bonnie and smiled. “Uncomplicated things.”

Bonnibel fumed. “It’s not like you utilise your _amazing_ culinary abilities anyway,” she snapped. “You eat take-out food almost every day.”

Marceline clamped a hand over her heart. “I’m wounded. And I do too eat healthy… sometimes.” Her smile flashed through the false pain and she flicked a pair of patties expertly off the hot plate. It took her very little time to have two burgers made up, one of which she handed to Bonnie. “There you go. Let’s go find your chess board.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Marceline,” Alex said, happily.

“Any time.” She looped her arm through Bonnie’s and trotted down the stairs to the yard. “Where to, Jeeves?” 

She sighed and tugged her friend around to the hedge. “My mother calls it a ‘life analogy’,” she explained. “Because it’s complicated and even when you get to the middle there’s still more to do. But it has a whole ton of stuff hidden inside that’s supposed to represent good times.” She exhaled heavily and stood at the entrance to the labyrinth. “It’s kind of stupid and very odd, but it was always fun to play in as a kid. Plus there’s a little dead end that’s the only place on the whole property where there’s no cameras.”

Marceline shook her head. “Why do you have cameras all over the place?”

“My parents are paranoid?”

“Right. Rich people. And why do you have a maze again?”

Bonnie paused. Why _did_ they have a maze? She shrugged. “Rich people.”

Marceline cackled. “Good answer. So how do we find this cameraless place?”

“That’s not where the chess board is.”

It was a positively wicked grin Marceline gave her this time. “I can still think of a good use we could put it to.” That was devilish and… sounded like an excellent idea. Bonnie shared her smile and set off through the maze.

They ate their burgers as they went, Marceline looking a little disappointed that there wasn’t more. Bonnie made sure to take the long route, not for any particular reason, it just seemed like a good idea. Several times they passed her mother’s… _things_ , the ones that represent facets of life. An arched trellis with creepers growing over it, darkening out the late afternoon sunlight. A fountain with fishes that gurgled water into a trough. A collection of gnomes that got an amused laugh from Marceline. Even a trio of garden statues of some unknown object. Bonnie and Rob had argued over what the statues were of for a long time, eventually agreeing to disagree on the subject. While he always saw fantastical things (a knight, a fortune teller, a king and so forth), Bonnibel was convinced it was just trash, lumped together and sold because the artist thought it was worthwhile. She didn’t get modern art at all. Marceline stood, hands in pockets, head on one side, tongue between her teeth, just staring at it. Then she nodded and moved on. Curiosity wanted to know what Marceline had seen in the strange artwork, but she didn’t ask.

“Your parents are quite odd, Bonnie dear,” she said, inspecting a face carved into the hedge. “Who goes to this much effort for something most people probably won’t see?”

“My parents do. Doesn’t your dad do anything weird?”

“Not really,” she said with a half shrug. “I mean, he’s weird cause… you know… he’s been around a while. But he ain’t this weird, darn sure of that.” She hesitated. “What… is the purpose of the maze again?”

“It’s supposed to represent life, or a journey or something,” Bonnie muttered, rounding the corner and gazing absently at the bench they’d come all this way to find. “Mum believes that the things in the maze will hold meaning for anyone who sees them. I just think it’s stupid. I’ve never found it to be very enlightening. But then… I do know the maze inside and out.”

Marceline gestured at the chair. “So what’s this then? To take a break on your exploration of life’s mysteries?” She grinned cheekily and sprawled on the stone seat. “Not very comfortable.”

Heat rushed to Bonnie’s cheeks. “This is… the only place on our property not monitored by cameras. You can call it a rest stop if you want; mum always seemed to have her own ideas of what it meant.” She sighed.

Arching one eyebrow and patting the spot next to her slowly, Marceline asked, “What do you think it is?”

Bonnie giggled. “The place Lucy comes to make out with whatever boy she brings over.” She sat beside her friend carefully. “Really though. I don’t see a point for it. As much as I like not being watched, I’ve never found a use to put it to.”

Marceline brushed the hair from Bonnie’s face and leaned in almost uncomfortably close. “Guess what, brainiac? I just found a use for it.” Her lips, cool and tingly, ran across Bonnie’s shoulder, making her gasp.

She shot to her feet, but Marceline only followed, grabbing her wrists and holding tight, that smoky look back in her eyes. That didn’t bode well.

“You really do suck at playing things straight, Marcy,” Bonnie inhaled as Marceline pressed her face into Bonnibel’s shoulder. “This is marginally inappropriate.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should, my parents are here.”

“No cameras you said, babe.” Her teeth grazed Bonnie’s neck and her fingers became claws, grabbing fistfuls of Marceline’s coat. “Did you call me ‘Marcy’ just now?”

“Yeah, so?” The words were rather hard to get out as her voice hitched and her heart thumped in her ears. Marceline’s fingers trailed down her spine, making her shiver.

“I don’t mind it,” she growled into Bonnie’s ear.

Reality seemed to crash around her and – realising _precisely_ what was going on here – Bonnie shoved at Marceline, pushing her away. Well, Marceline was a lot stronger, so she let herself be pushed back. “No,” Bonnie exhaled heavily, breath still coming shorter than normal. “Anywhere but here.”

Marceline tilted her head again, feet leaving the ground briefly as she played with a lock of Bonnie’s hair. “I’ll take you up on that,” she said teasingly. “Let’s go play chess.” A kiss on the cheek was all she went for this time before allowing Bonnibel to lead her out.

Bonnie took the shortest route this time, not really concerned with any of the other things hidden in the maze. They popped out under a trellis the hedge had been coaxed to grow over and into the square space in the centre of the maze. So, the board wasn’t actually life sized, that was impractical, but it was pretty darn huge compared to regular sets. Little alcoves were cut into the hedge and wooden benches were nestled inside. In one alcove there was a steel box, it was wide and tall, but not deep. 

“What’s in there, Bon?” Marceline queried, pointing to the box.

“That’s a scoreboard,” she explained. “We keep a coin in there to flip to see who gets white and a tally of how many wins we’ve all had.” She flicked the door open to prove it. Names were written down the left and next to each name was a fraction; number of games won over total number played. “Just because we have to know.”

Marceline pursed her lips, running her eyes over the tally. “You’re winning,” she noted. “You win the most games.”

Bonnie bobbed her head, retrieving the coin. “Yes,” she said simply. “Would you like to call the toss?”

“Heads.”

She flipped. Marceline got white. They played. Robert and Marshall walked in with Candy not long after but they didn’t pay them much attention. Marshall had already made it clear that he wasn’t interested in chess and Candy had never been very good at it.

Bonnie probably shouldn’t have been surprised to find out that Marceline was quite a skilled player. Living as long as she had, it only made sense that she was good at a large variety of things. Only… Marceline really _wasn’t_ the type of person who comes across as a good chess player

“Looks like you’ve met your match,” Candice called from her seat. “Elle, come on now, can’t be letting someone beat you so easily.”

Bonnie grimaced. It was turning into a much longer match than she’d expected. No one had drawn out a game for more than fifteen minutes with her in a very long time. And Marceline was loving every minute.

“Why _did_ you decide to learn chess?” Marshall asked suddenly.

She shrugged, moving a piece to corner Bonnibel’s bishop. “I just like being better than you at things. All kinds of things.” She smirked. “So whenever you don’t apply yourself to something, I make sure I do it better.”

Her brother pouted. “That’s very mean of you.” Marceline only laughed.

Robert nodded at the board. “You’re not quite good enough to beat my sister at chess, Marceline,” he opined. 

Blinking curiously, Marceline returned her attention to the game and uttered a surprised, “Oh.” So Marceline had trapped Bonnie’s bishop and set up a phalanx of expendable pawns to corral one of her knights and deter her from utilising her other bishop. Yet despite this (and the fact that Marceline had eliminated one of her rooks with surprising ease), Bonnibel had pinned her king between her surviving rook, a single pawn and her deliberately under-used queen. “You won.”

Marshall burst into a fit of cackles, holding his stomach and bending at the waist. “You were beaten…” he wheezed. “Beaten by _her_. Oh my lord. That is hilarious.” And Bonnie couldn’t help but smile with him because unlike Rob and Candy who only looked confused by the statement, she knew why he was laughing so hard. Marceline, long-lived Marceline who’d had so much more time to practice at just about everything, lost to a mere mortal. A twenty-two year old mortal no less.

Marceline grimaced. “You _are_ good, Bonnie,” she growled, conceding with a flourish and a bow that was only the teensiest bit mocking. “Promise I’ll win next time.” She flounced around the board and flung her arm across Bonnie’s shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Or you can pay me back later in some other way. I can be a sore loser.”

Her cheeks burned, she could practically feel them glowing a bright red. “Get off me, Marceline,” she hissed. But her heart was going a million miles a minute and Marceline – curse the wretched woman – she knew and she loved it.

Still, Marceline consented, retrieving her arm and flopping down onto the bench beside her brother. Lights, strategically placed in the hedge to be nearly invisible, flickered to life, illuminating the area with a soft white glow. Bonnie turned and looked up, above the bushes; the sky was dark, the sun must have set during their game.

Candice appeared at her shoulder. “She held you out for longer than I’ve ever seen, Elle,” she said softly, arms folded. “You losing your touch or what?”

Bonnibel smiled. “No, she’s just good. She’s full of surprises is Marceline.” And she couldn’t keep the fondness out of her voice. Candice gave her a funny look but didn’t ask any questions the way Lucy would have. She just accepted that they were friends and moved on.

“When did you cut your hair?” Candy asked instead, nodding at her. “You wore it long for years. Why the change? You hate change.”

Bonnie shrugged, touching the ends of her hair. It had always been long, straight and strawberry blonde. Once she’d graduated and moved out she’d debated doing something different, something rebellious, something to state that she’d left the grasp of her mother’s controlling dictatorship. While she’d never been brave enough to do anything drastic, a hair change was simple, easy to reverse if she didn’t like it. And as soon as the length had been reduced, all of a sudden it was curly, just like Rob’s, brushing her collar and so much easier to take care of. This was particularly good when she was feeling lazy. Which was more and more often of late.

But she only lifted one shoulder in another half-hearted shrug. “Sometimes change is a good thing. I’ve decided I don’t mind it.”

The shadowy smile that flashed across her friend’s face spoke volumes, but Candy was no prying gossip and she’d long since gotten used to Bonnie’s somewhat vague answers. And that was the best thing Bonnie could ever ask in a friend.

Then Marceline was at her side again, grinning in her blinding way, eyes doing that thing that made her heart turn itself inside out. “Thrilling as it is to meet all your friends, Bon,” Marceline said with a glance at Candy. “And your ex-boyfriends, I’m craving ice-cream and I totally think we should ditch.”

“We can’t just _leave_ ,” Bonnie said. “And I don’t have any ex-boyfriends. Besides, I’m sure my parents have ice-cream.” She said it to annoy Marceline. There was really no question of what her friend had truly meant.

“She has met Charlie,” Candice helpfully pointed out. “You may not have actually dated him, but we all still count him just the same.”

Marceline poked her tongue out, smile glittering in her dark eyes. “I want ice-cream.”

“And strawberries too, no doubt,” Bonnie grumbled. That comment earned her a wink, then Marceline was skipping out of the maze.

“You know all the things I like most, Bonnibel dear,” she sang over her shoulder. “So come on, let’s bounce, get out of here.” So pleased with her little rhyme, she spun on the spot, being very cavalier about things like gravity.

Bonnie checked her watch. Nearly 6pm? Where on earth had the afternoon gone? “Fine,” she relented, starting after her roommate. “We’ll say goodbye to everyone first and there’s something I want you to see.” She waved over her shoulder at Candy and their brothers before following.

The look in her eyes now was positively condemning. If Candy had been a little bit more open about the possibility they were dating, that look Marceline gave Bonnie would’ve been the only confirmation she needed. As it was, she didn’t suspect it because ‘straight down the line’ Bonnibel Bubblegum would never do something like that. Never.

Marceline threaded her arm through Bonnie’s as they headed out of the maze and back across the lawn to the house. Lucy was still sitting with Daniel at one of the tables, probably too close for her parents’ liking, but Lucy wasn’t the type to care. Norman and Cherry were still absent. Melissa and Brad were being antisocial, no surprises and Charlie was sitting on the railing, watching Bonnie and Marceline.

“You really had a thing for him, Bon?” Marceline asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Bonnie sighed. “I was fifteen.” She shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Turns out he’s a real jerk.”

“I thought you liked jerks,” Marceline snickered.

“You’re not a jerk, Marcy. Just… annoying.”

“Naw, you’ll make me blush.”

Bonnibel thought about that for a minute. If vampires are dead, they don’t have blood circulation – as proven by Marceline’s frigid skin. “Can you blush?” she asked.

Marceline looked down at her. “I’m sure I could. You wanna find out?”

“Not right now.”

As she’d expected, the parents were still sitting at the table, talking. Charlie’s eyes followed them closely as they went inside. Bonnie didn’t like the look on his face, but she wasn’t going to bring it up. Nope.

“Hey mum, dad,” she said, letting go of Marceline’s arm. “We’re going.”

Alex looked over at the clock on the wall. “So soon? You normally stay for longer yet.”

“I have to get up early in the morning, Mr B,” Marceline interjected smoothly, saving Bonnie from having to come up with another excuse. “Since Bonnie’s my ride, I’ll have to take her with me.” She grinned. “Lovely to meet you though. Next time.”

“Yes, do come to our Christmas party, Marceline,” Alex beamed, shaking her hand warmly. “It was splendid to meet you.”

Cynthia stood to give Bonnie a hug. “Do something with your hair, would you, Bonnibel?” she whispered. “It was so much nicer long.”

Bonnibel sighed yet again. She should have expected that. “Yeah sure, mum. See you at Christmas.”

“So, what do you want me to see?” Marceline asked as they bounced down the stairs.

“You know what? It can wait. I just want to go now.” Charlie was gone from the railing now and she didn’t want to run into him again. Why did she know so many douchebags? 

“Awesome.”

As it happened, leaving early was a pretty good idea. Bonnibel had never returned to her apartment before midnight after being at her parents’ place. The two hour drive made sure of that. But even if she was kind of tired from the drive (the ice-cream they stopped for hadn’t helped a great deal with that), Marceline wasn’t ready to just let her go to bed. That would be too simple. Marceline didn’t do simple.

Her arms wrapped around Bonnie’s waist and pulled her close. Cool breath tickling her ear, Bonnie’s heart skipped a beat, fingers snagging in Marceline’s coat. She wriggled in the grasp, but Marceline was oh-so much stronger than she was.

Then Marceline’s lips were on her jaw and when the lightning surged through Bonnie and her knees buckled, they fell onto the still-unfolded sofa. She finally managed to twist around in Marceline’s arms and tried to glare, but there was something in her friend’s eyes that made the scowl melt and sound freeze in her throat. It was big, so much bigger than anything else, grand, sparkling and deep. It was terrifying and wonderful and looked so much like the night sky, so vast and incomprehensible that Bonnibel couldn’t even remember what she’d been thinking.

She leaned down slowly and kissed Marceline’s cheek. That wasn’t good enough. Their lips met and it was like all the Christmas fireworks had been set off prematurely in her stomach. Her hands clenched in Marceline’s hair and the other woman laughed gently, flipping her over.

“Tut, tut, Bonnibel,” Marceline murmured against her mouth. “Your heart could compete at the Olympics. That can’t be healthy.”

“Don’t care,” Bonnie muttered back, trying to pull Marceline back down to kiss her again. Her heart could run as fast as it liked.

Marceline pressed her nose to Bonnie’s neck carefully and began to sing. It was soft and warm and… Bonnie loved her voice. Loved listening to it, but now it threatened to put her to sleep and she didn’t want that. Marceline ignored her protests.

“ _Lying here with you so close to me…_  
 _It’s hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe._  
 _Caught up in this moment, caught up in your smile._  
 _I’ve never opened up to anyone._  
 _So hard to hold back when I’m holding you in my arms._  
 _We don’t need to rush this, let’s just take it slow._  
 _Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight,_  
 _Just a touch of the fire burning so bright._  
 _No I don’t want to mess this thing up,_  
 _I don’t want to push too far._  
 _Just a shot in the dark that you just might,_  
 _Be the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life._  
 _So, baby, I’m alright, with just a kiss goodnight._ ”

Bonnie couldn’t help it, hands still tangled as tight as they would go in Marceline’s hair, she fell asleep.


	15. When You Just Can’t Stand the Rain

Stuart was playing Galaga on the desktop as always when Bonnie strolled in. Marceline slouched after her, hands in pockets, pouting. Totally ruining any preconceptions Bonnie might have had about vampires.

“Morning, Elle,” Stuart said without looking up.

“Hey,” she replied before rounding on her moody roommate. “Sit.” She jabbed a finger at the cushioned seats along one wall. “And don’t move.”

“Ugh, you’re such a fun-sponge,” Marceline groaned, hunching her shoulders. “I want to see what’s so special about this place. Nothing wrong with that. C’mon, _please_?” She put on her best puppy-eyed expression and stuck her bottom lip out. It sat wrong on her face and Bonnibel found it surprisingly easy to glare back at her.

“No.”

“But _why_? It’s just _filing_.”

Bonnie thrust a hand at the signage against the door. ‘Staff Access Only’ it read in big bold letters. Bright red, only a blind person (or Marceline when she was feeling rebellious) could’ve missed it.

“Bah.” Marceline flopped onto the chair and squinted at her. “You’re no fun.”

Bonnie only smiled at her – a little too sweetly, it was kind of fun to make Marceline grumpy – before hurrying through the door. Filing on a Sunday was definitely not the highlight of her week, but it had to be done. Arriving at the little office room where all the research was stored, she slung her satchel from her shoulder and paper spilled across the desk. Grumbling now at her clumsiness, Bonnie shuffled it back together and flicked through the pages quickly, hoping they weren’t out of order now.

Digging through the filing cabinets on one wall she came up with the folder she wanted and sank into the chair to compile all her notes. It was boring, but she knew where everything ought to be and it really shouldn’t take her long. Still, she dallied, fiddling with her pen, clicking it in and out absently as she read through everything again. It would bug Marceline.

The door clicked, making her look up, but it wasn’t open and no one had come through. Perhaps it just hadn’t shut properly before. Through the little window high in one wall, above the cabinets, the sky had clouded over. Dark grey now swirled through the sky, tinged an ominous green colour, boding ill. Storm season had rolled around and that _dragged_. Bonnie didn’t like rain overly much. It made everything damp and when storms drew out over weeks (as they were wont to do) it was cold enough to wear a jumper.

She sighed softly, hoping the rain would hold off at least until she was finished, and turned her gaze back to her paper. Her attention didn’t stay there long though, a rustling made her look back up. A small grey bird was sitting on top of one drawer, head tilted, eyes studying her. Weird, she’d let it out when she was done. How it’d managed to get in was anyone’s guess.

Eyes turned back to her papers, one hand fiddling with a page corner, the other holding her pen. The bird leapt off the cabinet, she heard its wings flutter, but didn’t pay it any mind, it was probably just restless. That was until fingers wound between hers sitting on the desk and her head snapped up. Marceline was hovering above her desk, watching her.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Bonnie snapped, only it wasn’t really a snap because there was no heat in it.

Marceline’s mouth tilted up into her cocky smile and she leaned across the table to kiss Bonnie gently. She chuckled and floated back, perching once more on the cabinet, legs out. “Oh well,” she laughed. “You done yet?”

Bonnibel blinked and looked back at her work. Hmm, she was just about finished. Clicking her pen once more for good measure, she shuffled the paper together and crammed it less tactfully into the folder than usual. She hefted the folder over to the cabinet where Marceline had to swing her leg up underneath herself so Bonnie could get into the drawer. Once it was stowed, she snatched her satchel and opened the door.

“Come on then, grumpy,” she said, waving through the door. Marceline swooped back to normal-people height, shoes scudding on the tiled floor. She shot Bonnie an insolent grin on her way past.

“Your job is _uber_ boring, Bon,” she opined, arms swinging by her sides. “You should get a new one.”

“Or… no,” Bonnie replied. She waved to Stuart, still engrossed in his game, as they crossed the foyer. “I quite like my job, thank you.”

“Mmhmm,” Marceline said, holding the door for her this time. “And how much more is there on your list of things to do before going to see my dad tomorrow? Please say none.”

“Hum… One more.” She thought it was only one more. “Just have to stop by the library and return a few books. I don’t need them anymore.”

“Return books?” Marceline snickered. “Also, isn’t the library being renovated right now?”

Bonnie hustled to the car. She really did want to get everything finished before the heavens split and they got drenched. “Yes, but Cooter will be there to oversee things. She hates leaving her books unattended and she won’t want the workers to destroy anything.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Shut up, Marceline.”

The library was a mess. Fine white powder seemed to have been painted liberally across every surface. Tables and couches were all pushed against one wall, hidden beneath billowy grey sheets. The shelves were in a similar state but Bonnie knew that beneath the drapes, not a single book would be found. They’d all be in the storage rooms under lock and key (and probably a few bolts as well for good measure). 

Cooter was, as expected, pacing back and forth through the dust… Well, she was shuffling anyway, waving her cane at the men. She shambled across the foyer after one young man wearing a tattered shirt who had lifted the corner of a sheet to peek underneath. Smiling as Cooter began to verbally assail him, Bonnie wandered over.

“You shouldn’t touch her bookshelves,” Bonnie said softly to the man. “They’re like her children. Good afternoon, Ms Cooter.”

The elderly librarian’s wrinkled face split across the middle as the crease denoting her mouth cracked open in a weathered smile. “Bonnibel, dear,” she croaked. “How good of you to stop by. I was just telling this uncouth lout about keeping his clumsy paws off my things.”

Bonnie chuckled and the young man wore a sheepish look. “I can see that. How about you let him off with a warning this time? I’m sure he meant no harm.”

Cooter glared at him, brows collapsing to nearly bury her eyes. “Very well,” she rasped. “Just this one time. And don’t you touch my things again; Bonnibel’s mercy is the only thing saving you from getting a whack of my cane.” She brandished it at his face to make her point.

He gulped. “Thanks,” he breathed, shooting Bonnie a grateful glance before slithering away. The poor chap. No one ever warned the workers that Cooter was so temperamental.

“What brings you around today, dear?” Cooter asked. “We’re not open until late January, you know that.” Her clouded eyes noted Marceline and she shuffled closer, smelling of old paper. “Who’s your friend?”

“My roommate, Marceline,” she replied lowly, despite knowing full well that Marceline could hear her. “And I’m just returning some books. Didn’t want them to be late.” She smiled gently, patting her satchel.

“Ah.” Cooter stuffed one leathery hand into the pocket of her dress and came up with a rusted old key. “You know where they go. Don’t let her touch my books.”

Marceline chuckled behind them as Bonnie took the key and headed off to the storeroom. “Hey Bonnie,” Marceline began tentatively at her elbow. “Can I ask you something?” Marceline’s voice sounded funny, almost… scared.

“Sure.” 

“I know you said your parents would have a heart attack if they found out we’re dating,” she murmured, staring at the tiles beneath her feet. “But… why do you introduce me to everyone else as your roommate?”

“Cause you are. And… well… my parents know all my friends and all their parents. Yes, even Rain, Jake and Finn. They make a point of knowing everyone I do. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did _research_ into them. They know all the people I work for, all the people who work in my building; they even know some of the people who live there. They’re… controlling, I told you that. If _someone_ finds out, they _all_ will.”

Marceline was twisting her fingers together, lips pursed, brows furrowed in thought. Bonnie glanced at her worriedly before sliding the key into the store door and opening it. It might look old and disused, but the hinges were well oiled and it opened smoothly. Once the door behind them was closed, Marceline’s feet lifted off the ground, something Bonnie had noticed she did more of late. Usually when she was anxious.

“So… you’re just not going to tell anyone?” Their eyes met this time and Bonnie’s heart cracked. Marceline looked almost _vulnerable_ , geez. 

She stretched up to slip her arms around Marceline’s neck, forcing her to float closer. “Hey. I will. I promise.” She kissed Marceline’s nose and bumped their foreheads together. “After Christmas.”

A low hum came from Marceline’s throat, her feet hitting the floor again. “Why Christmas? That’s a month away.”

She hesitated. Then decided the other woman might as well know. “I argue with my mum a lot.” Marceline gave her a ‘you think?’ look but didn’t speak. “The last time we fought was Christmas Eve last year. It was about Robert moving out and me living by myself. She wasn’t happy with the idea and wanted Rain to move in. But I’d kind of already guessed that Jake was up to something and didn’t want to make a pest of myself. When I suggested Finn though…” she exhaled, pressing her face into Marceline’s neck. “Wow did she go off. I told her I’d look for someone; think about getting a new roommate. I figured I’d probably do it because… I _always_ do what she asks. That’s when I cut my hair off. I knew it would bother her and I had to do _something_ , just once, that would get to her. I needed to rebel or I’d go crazy.”

Marceline’s arms wrapped around her waist and held tight. “So… I found your ad in the college magazine because your mother wanted you to get a roommate? And you figured a university brat would be acceptable?”

“Pretty much.”

There was a long pause as Marceline thought. She was worried about asking something, Bonnie could tell, she got all tense when she was anxious. Eventually, with a long exhalation that stirred Bonnie’s hair, she gave her fear voice. “Am I…” Her voice caught. She tried again, “Am I just an act of rebellion because you know it bugs your mum?”

“What? No!” Bonnibel pulled back, but kept her hands laced behind Marceline’s neck. “No, no, not ever. I mean… it _will_ bug her. But that’s not why…” She let her head fall back to her friend’s shoulder. “I… would never. Don’t ever think that again.” Her fingers tightened in the dark hair. “Don’t _ever_ let that cross your mind again. That’s terrible.”

She felt Marceline smile, her fingers toying with the belt loops of Bonnie’s jeans. “Alright then. I believe you.” Relief washed over Bonnie, that was worrying. She let go.

Marceline watched from the door as Bonnie slid the books from her satchel into their corresponding places in storage. She was smiling again, that slow half-smile that Bonnie had long since decided was her favourite.

“Come on,” Bonnie said, pulling her back into the library. “Let’s go. I want to beat the rain.”

“Don’t like the wet season, huh?”

“Not so much, no. My roof leaks.”

She returned the key to Cooter with a grin and a quick farewell. She left before another worker could do something that would start an argument. If that happened she’d feel compelled to stay and mediate. But she really _did_ want to be home before the rain came. And as they stepped outside, it became ever more apparent that it was going to be one hell of a storm. The green in the clouds was positively nauseous.

There was a static in the air as they drove home. A light breeze that hummed with pent up energy and whispered off eaves and awnings of something more to come. Crisp air danced, twirling paper and wrappers along the gutters, swinging signs, cooling everything right down. It was as refreshing and clean as it was dangerous and wild. It made her shiver. Yes, it was going to storm and the rain would last for days, she could feel it in her bones.

On cue, thunder rolled across the sky. The lightning was far off, a mere flicker of light in the dim grey on the horizon. The breeze picked up and, conditioned to such weather as they were, most people they saw were donning wet-weather coats or pulling out umbrellas. The first few drops of rain pattered on the windscreen as they turned into their street.

By the time she pulled up in the lot outside her building it was pouring.

“Great,” she grumbled, glowering balefully at the sky. “And I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Marceline, however, was positively beaming. “Let me show you how to enjoy the rain, Bonnibel,” she said. She slid out of her seat and came around to Bonnie’s side, opening the door, still grinning.

“Marceline…?” She squeaked as her friend hauled her from the car, slamming the door as well. “What are you…?” Marceline was developing a nasty habit of interrupting her.

The other woman, still on the verge of uncontrollable laughter, swept her up and kissed her. She tasted like the rain that was soaking through their clothes. Ok, so maybe Marceline was right, it was possible to enjoy the rain. Cliché, definitely, the sort of obligatory scene one might find in a trashy romance film, but she didn’t mind. Arms around Marceline’s neck, hands in her hair, she giggled softly, feeling Marceline’s fangs against her lip.

Marceline set her down under the roof outside their building, sweeping drenched hair out of Bonnie’s face, fingers fiddling with her ear. “So, still hate the rain?” she asked Bonnie cheekily, holding the door.

“Mmm,” she hummed happily. “Not so much.” She dragged Marceline inside by the wrist and smiled. “It has its merits.” They took the stairs; there was no knowing whether or not they’d get stuck in the elevator if the storm worsened.

Marceline’s fingers wove between hers as they reached the door, which made unlocking it somewhat difficult. Locking the door once they were through was hard as well, but only because Marceline kept trying to drag her away. Of course, being a vampire and all, the other woman was stronger and they fell in a heap all over the currently folded sofa. That was going to leave water marks.

Laughing as Bonnie tried fruitlessly to escape, Marceline brushed hair out of her face; long sopping black locks cascaded across the couch in a tangled mess. Bonnie supposed she wouldn’t look much better. As always, Bonnibel gave up her struggle, and shot her a glare instead.

“So what’s your dad like?” she asked Marceline quietly, glare fading.

Marceline shrugged one shoulder. “Eh, he’s my dad. He wears a suit and likes to think he’s cool. Isn’t that just the same with all parents?” She grinned, fingers drawing little looping patterns on Bonnie’s waist. “You’ll find out tomorrow anyway.”

Bonnie wriggled in Marceline’s arms until she could get a proper look at her face. Big brown eyes were as light-hearted and laughing as always, but there was a tight crease between her brows betraying an underlying anxiety. For someone as long lived as she was, Marceline was awfully easy to read.

“You’re worried,” she observed. The lines crinkled and the smile, ever-present around her mouth, turned down slightly.

She took a deep breath. “I know him. He won’t care that you know about me and he won’t care that we’re dating. What he _will_ care about is your mortality. He won’t like that. Not at all.”

“Psh,” Bonnie said, pressing their foreheads together. “That’s an easy fix.”

Marceline’s half-smile was forced, fake and fleeting. “You… I won’t let you do that. Humans are fickle, Bonnie. What if you change your mind? I can’t do that to you if it means you live forever without a single friend. No. That’s too much risk.”

Bonnie rolled her lips and frowned. “If I lived forever, think of all the time I’d have for scientific enquiry,” she said flatly. “Besides, I’m not asking you to… _change_ me or anything. I was just saying that of all the problems we could _possibly_ have, me being mortal is the least of them. It _is_ an easy fix. That’s just a fact.”

“Still not gonna change you, Bon.”

“I’m not going to ask anything so rash. I prefer to think things through. You know that.”

“But you might ask one day…” She raised an eyebrow in askance, her smile bordering on sincere now.

Bonnie pretended to think. “Maybe…” It was a drawn out ‘maybe’ that came conspicuously close to sing-song. “Maybe one day. Let’s see how the next few months pan out. There’s no hurry. I’m a patient person.”

“Maybe one day,” Marceline repeated slowly.

“You can give me all the facts, all the things that could go wrong,” Bonnie said, her nose sliding along Marceline’s. Their lips mere millimetres apart. “I can make a pros-and-cons list before I make a decision. Nothing good was ever done in haste, Marcy.”

 _Now_ the half-smile increased in intensity, blinding her. Cocksure and mischievous again, Marceline pushed her, laughing, into the sofa, fingertips tracing delicate circles down her side, fangs scraping the skin along her jaw. “Deal,” she growled.

Bonnibel smiled. Rainy days had just become her favourite.


	16. If You’re Gonna Be Somebody’s Heartbreak

“So what are thralls anyway?” Bonnie asked, staring up at the big glass office building. It was dark and reflective with stone protrusions slightly reminisce of gargoyles at the corners. She hesitated to say it was gothic, but only a little.

Marceline slouched around the car to her, hat pulled low against the sun. She’d been grumbling all morning about how the rain hadn’t lasted as long as Bonnie had thought it would. But weather in Australia was like that: torrential downpour one minute, drought the next. From the ominous black growing on the horizon though, the sunny respite wouldn’t linger.

As they stepped into the shade of the awning Marceline slipped a hand from her pocket and waved it absently. “Oh just… minions basically,” she grinned. “Yeah, that about sums them up. They’re given… longer lives than usual and immunity to disease, but they’re still basically human. Heartbeats and all. He just finds it much more convenient to have semi-immortal servants that he doesn’t have to train every few decades. You know?”

Bonnie bobbed her head, she supposed that made sense. Why replace something if you don’t have to? “So no special powers then?”

“Nah, long life is about it.” Her grin slipped. “Although… while most go willingly into service, sidestepping terminal illness or some such, I don’t think they ever really know what they’re in for. Thralls are bound to their master, they have to stay inside a certain proximity and they die if he does. Their free will is limited. It’s like being a slave. Only without the glimmer of freedom.”

Marceline looked away, hiding her face as though she was ashamed of something. “What?” Bonnie asked, touching her friend’s elbow gently. “What’s wrong? You never look so glum.”

She shrugged. “It’s not much of a life, I guess. Being a thrall. Sure it has its benefits, but it must still suck.” Her eyes were sad as they peeked back at Bonnie. “I’ve never been able to do it. I couldn’t take away someone’s right to make their own choices.”

Bonnie smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Come on, let’s go up.” She stuck her arm out and was glad when a wan smile flitted across Marceline’s face. It wasn’t much, but better than nothing.

“Alright, but you watch yourself.”

The inside of the building looked pretty normal. It was wrong of her to expect anything, but then there were a lot of tropes ingrained into the human subconscious that were hard to shake off. No cobwebs or sinister suits of armour decorated the lobby, which probably would have been weird anyway. The floor was polished marble, white and well maintained; Bonnie could see her reflection in it. Panels of aged wood in mind-whirling patterns formed the walls, columns of the same marble as the floor stood along the walls, supporting a high ceiling filled with spirals in black and white checks. A simple water feature trickled down the rough stone wall behind the reception desk. It was sparse but elegant, very different to what Bonnie had expected knowing that the twins had rather… expensive taste in most things.

“First impression?” Marceline asked her cheekily, heeled boots clacking on the floor.

“Normal.” Bonnie craned her neck to inspect the ceiling, trying to decide if the spirals were hiding something supernatural. They weren’t. “But I suppose you’ve had a long enough time to blend in. It looks like any other office building.”

“That’s a boring if apt observation,” Marceline laughed. “Come on then. Hey Clara.” The little red haired woman behind the desk waved absently.

Bonnie hustled after her, trying not to stare curiously at the woman. “Is she a thrall, Marceline?”

“Yup, everyone who’s on dad’s payroll is. Safe to assume that whoever you meet here’s gonna be a thrall.”

“Can other species make thralls?”

Marceline chuckled. “Do you ever stop thinking?”

“No.”

“Course not. Well… some can. Witches and wizards have been known to create thralls. Werewolves can too, but… that’s a bit different. Dryads, nymphs… a few others. Sometimes they’re called other things, but yes. The short answer is yes.”

The pair of elevators were also perfectly normal. Bonnie had thought – if she paid close enough attention – that there would be something, probably something small and not easily noticed, that would point to the inhumanity of the building’s owner. But no, every detail was meticulous and nothing stood out of place. If she hadn’t known better, she might have assumed it really did belong to a human.

The elevator wound smoothly to the thirty-second floor and the doors whirred open, spitting them out on a floor somewhat different but superficially the same as the lobby. It had the same floor and spiralled ceiling, but the wooden walls made different patterns, these ones sent shivers down her spine. There wasn’t anything in particular about them, she just had a feeling that she shouldn’t be here. Her steps slowed, heart rate picking up ever so slightly. It was dread, a nauseous anticipation of something malicious to come.

Marceline’s cool fingers slid between hers and the feeling eased. “Hey,” she whispered, pulling Bonnie closer. “It’s just a spell. To keep people away. There’s nothing to worry about, the charm is just to keep humans out. It’ll wear off in a minute.” 

It made sense, no prying eyes should be allowed here where things might be abnormal. But the tingling fear still crawled along her spine and her hand squeezed Marceline’s tighter. She could practically feel the anxiety and terror eating the lining of her stomach and she had this unreasonable sense that she was about to cry.

Then the trembling stopped and the fear vanished in an instant. She sagged with relief, not realising just how heavy it had been until it was gone. Marceline didn’t let her go though.

“Sorry that took longer than I thought it would,” Marceline muttered. “I’m not as powerful with magic as dad is, I couldn’t block his spell until I had something to work with. Sorry you had to feel that.” She smiled apologetically.

“It’s ok. Thanks though, I haven’t felt that awful in a long time.”

Marceline rapped shortly on a dark door with little gold lettering that Bonnie couldn’t read. She had no idea why she couldn’t read it, the letters appeared to be in English, but her brain wasn’t capable of understanding them. It just looked like jumbled garbage. The door swung inwards on silent hinges.

“I can see why your dad has that spell now,” Bonnie murmured, squinting at the door as they went in. “Why can’t I read the door?”

“It’s just my dad’s name, Bon,” Marceline replied, still holding her hand tightly. “He’s paranoid. It’s hidden underneath a charm to prevent people from knowing where he is without his consent. But yes, that’s why humans aren’t allowed up here.”

Lights sputtered to life on the ceiling and Bonnie blinked. It… was a living room. A semi-circle of leather lounges filled half the space, arranged in front of the single largest television Bonnie had ever laid eyes on. A table, long and broad, sat in the other half of the room, it was such a dark wood and polished to such a shine that it was basically a mirror. An archway led out of the room but unnatural darkness filled its frame and Bonnie couldn’t see through to what lay beyond. Speakers hidden somewhere in the roof (and Bonnie was peering around trying to locate them) filled the room with a soft classical sound… Bach she thought.

“Dad,” Marceline said, releasing Bonnie’s hand now. A man looked up from the table. Bonnie hadn’t even seen him sitting there. His hair was the same midnight colour as Marceline’s, his eyes the same penetrating brown, skin the same pallid grey. He even had the same laugh lines around his eyes, although his were more pronounced and rather more numerous than Marceline’s perpetually youthful features would allow. Unlike Marceline, his hair was close cropped, a finger’s breadth of it hugging his scalp and he was broad in the shoulders, a sturdy man, shorter than his children. His face exploded into a grin when he saw Marceline though, fanged grin showing from ear to pointed ear.

“Marceline, my dear!” he exclaimed in a deep voice. He spoke just like Marshall but with better enunciation. “How have you been? It has been decades since you last visited.” His voice trailed off with a flash of panic when he saw Bonnibel. “Hum… what?” he tacked on hesitantly with a wave of his hand.

“This is Bonnibel,” Marceline said, motioning for Bonnie to come closer.

She stepped across the carpet warily, not sure how this was going to go down. She offered her hand though, it was only polite. “Bonnibel Bubblegum,” she said softly. Then she turned her eyes on Marceline and frowned. “You haven’t visited your father in _decades_? Marceline, that’s poor form.”

Marceline beamed. “Yeah? So? Decades isn’t that long.”

“Did you at least _call_?”

“She does not call,” Hunter said slowly, confused.

“You are the worst daughter of all time,” Bonnie grumbled.

“Meh.” Marceline shrugged.

Hunter fixed his unrepentant child with piercing eyes. “Explain.” Just one word, but Marceline’s grin went from power-of-the-sun to a mere electric light bulb in less than a second.

“Bonnie knows, dad,” she said flatly. “She’s my girlfriend.”

His eyes swivelled around to Bonnie. “You… what now?” His head whipped back to Marceline. “Girlfriend?”

The smile powered up again. “Yup.”

“And,” he said, returning his gaze to Bonnie. “You are aware of Marceline’s… condition?”

“She’s a vampire.”

He blinked. “This… does not bother you?”

“I don’t see why it should.”

He blinked again. Then smiled. “This is good then. Come, I was just about to have a meal.”

Bonnie gave Marceline her best ‘what the _truffles_ just happened?’ look. Marceline only smiled. “Told you he wouldn’t care,” she muttered.

“I thought it would at least occasion comment,” Bonnie grumbled back.

Marceline rolled her eyes. “I have a feeling there will be plenty of _comments_ from your folks. We don’t need it from my dad too.”

“Point.”

They sat around the table, Hunter shuffling a pile of papers together and stacking them up the other end. With a snap of his fingers, the gloomy curtain in the arch rippled, expelling a blonde boy of about eighteen. But given that he was a thrall, he could be vastly older. He was carrying a silver platter with ornamented rims and a little moon shaped handle. He seemed surprised to see that Hunter had guests, but covered it up with a faint smile, placing the tray in front of his boss. Er… whatever, Bonnie wasn’t sure what kind of relationship Hunter maintained with his… people.

“Shall I fetch more for the ladies, sir?” asked the boy respectfully, almost demure.

“We’d love lunch,” Marceline said cheerily. “Thanks, Alan.” The boy nodded and headed off to get them food.

“Do you know all the thralls by name?” Bonnie asked curiously.

“Only the ones dad’s had a while,” Marceline mused. “Alan and Clara – among others – have been with us since… ooh, seventeenth century easily. Yeah?”

“That seems accurate,” Hunter added. His stocky fingers were laced together, chin propped atop them. “Are you sure Marceline’s condition does not bother you at all, Bonnibel?” Hunter asked somewhat bluntly. “She will outlive you.”

“Dad!” Marceline exclaimed. “What…? Just… no.” Again, Bonnie wondered if Marceline could blush, it seemed she was giving it her best shot.

“I don’t mind, sir,” Bonnie replied. “It’s not the worst thing.”

The look Marceline speared her way was gobsmacked. “We don’t… don’t talk about it.”

“You might want to, Marceline,” her father mentioned, casually. “It is a relatively simple thing to remedy.”

“Ha!” Bonnie said triumphantly. “Told you it was easy.”

“Ugh.” Marceline buried her face in her hands. “I won’t ask that from you,” she mumbled.

“So you said.” Alan reappeared with two white China plates adorned with salad and honeyed chicken. Their conversation flat-lined for the few moments he was present. “But it’s my choice.”

Hunter peered at her with penetrating eyes. “Would you make that choice if it was offered to you?”

Bonnie pursed her lips. “Hard to say,” she ruminated slowly. “I don’t think I could make that decision theoretically. I’d need more information.”

Marceline sat up again. “Speaking of information, dad, we have a favour to ask.” Hunter put his fork (a metal one, curiously) down and regarded her with a worried frown.

“Do I need to be concerned?” he asked.

She waved her hands attempting to placate him. “No, no, nothing stupid or anything. Bonnie wants to use your lab, that’s all. To run some tests.” Marceline paused, then reluctantly added, “On Simon.”

It seemed that, regardless of his being so old, Hunter was quite easily startled. His eyes were wide and his jaw dropped. “I… find myself at a loss. What, pray tell, would these experiments be regarding?”

Marceline swung her gaze to Bonnie, expectant. She sighed. “Well… I’d like to start with blood tests. Perhaps to identify the source of his encroaching madness,” Bonnie said softly. “I believe it might – _might_ – be something I can work on. Maybe there’s a cure.”

Hunter shook his head sadly. “There is no cure for this ailment, Bonnibel,” he informed her solemnly. “This is magical work, science cannot help him.”

“Dad, at least let her try,” Marceline pleaded. “What if it does help?”

“Then every wizard in the world will want it in order to save himself from the same fate,” Hunter replied hotly. “You will put her life in danger.”

“Psh,” Marceline said with another wave of her hand. “No one will know, dad. Just you, me, Bonnie and Simon. Not another soul. Come on. Please?”

“Do you know what you would be getting into, Bonnibel?” Hunter asked her gravely. The look in his eyes suggested that perhaps she didn’t, but she’d promised Marceline. She inhaled deeply.

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I do. But I’d like the opportunity to try and help. There’s no loss if I can’t, but if I can then it’s a chance worth taking.”

Hunter sighed. “Irrefutable logic if ever I heard it,” he muttered. “Still, you must know that what you are asking is no small thing, Bonnibel. We… do not generally let humans get too close to us.”

“It’ll be fine, dad, really,” Marceline said offhand. “Seriously. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Those are famous last words there, Marcy,” Bonnie muttered. “I’m not a superstitious person, but even I know you shouldn’t say things like that. You’re just inviting trouble.”

“I am trouble.” Marceline flashed her teeth, pushing her chair back on two legs. “Don’t worry yourself. I can take care of you.”

Hunter watched the brief exchange with a small smile. Then he sighed, standing. “Pleased as I am that you have finally graced me with your presence, Marceline,” he said. “And lovely as it was to meet you, Bonnibel, I do have work to attend.”

Marceline’s mouth dropped. “You’re kicking us out? Why daddy dear, that’s a first for you.”

“Business with people who would not appreciate your girlfriend’s mortality, I am afraid.” He pushed his chair in and it was then Bonnie noted just how precise he was about things. So very different to his children. “This is the sort of thing that does not happen a great deal. Best you work through… everything, before anyone finds out. They may not react well.” With that, he turned and left, leaving them alone at the table.

“What did he mean?” Bonnie asked after a moment of silence.

“About?”

“Work through everything,” she elaborated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Marceline stopped eating and glanced at her, trying very hard to be surreptitious and failing. She exhaled heavily. “You remember how I said I wouldn’t ask you to make any drastic decisions because humans are fickle and change their minds a lot?” Bonnie nodded. “He’s just saying that… you will probably have to make that choice at some point. To either become immortal or… I don’t know, we’ll find someone to wipe your memory I guess. If we can… that’s a rare skill.”

Bonnie blinked. “And this… this choice pertains to my fickleness I presume.”

“Well…” Marceline drew out the word. “Yes. I mean, if we break up then… you’re not going to want to be immortal, yeah? But he’s right, I will outlive you, he was also right when he alluded to the fact that I don’t have to. I can’t go back to being mortal…”

“But I could become a vampire,” Bonnie muttered, thinking.

“I won’t ask you to do that, Bonnie,” Marceline informed her seriously. It was an uncommon expression for her.

“I know,” she replied simply. “Thanks for that.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “What does your dad do anyway?”

Marceline smiled wanly at her change of topic. “I don’t know to be honest. He has his fingers in a lot of pies. He likes to know things, have things, before anyone else. And I think his ‘human world cover story’ is that he’s an accountant or something equally boring.” Marceline had said before that Hunter had a head for numbers, so she guessed that made sense.

She wandered over to one wall where a collection of framed images were hung. It was just Marceline and her brother mostly, sometimes Hunter featured and there was another girl in some of them. Her skin was darker; her hair obscenely curly, Bonnie wondered who she was.

In answer, as though she was psychic, Marceline said, “That’s Keila. She’s… our cousin I guess. No relation though, we sort of just adopted her.” In one picture, Marceline and Keila were sitting in a tree with guitars; it was a candid shot clearly. In another all four of them appeared to be feeding hawks. They were just ordinary photos, the kind you might see in any human house. But the birds did remind her of something.

“You turn into a dove,” Bonnie said without turning. “Do all vampires turn into doves?”

No response. Then, “No,” Marceline murmured from beside her. “Marshall turns into an eagle. But we are all associated with birds. I don’t for the life of me know where _bats_ came from…” She trailed off, thinking perhaps. Bonnie kept staring at the photos. “Well… some of us used to use illusions to get around at night as bats, I guess. Birds are an uncommon sight in the dark, bats aren’t. I don’t know why we’re depicted as bats only. It’s weird.”

“I suppose culture had to pick something. And you do have fangs,” Bonnie muttered.

“So? Lots of animals have fangs. Why not snakes? It’s just weird.”

“What about your dad and Keila? What do they turn into?”

“Keila’s a pigeon; she and I are the most inconspicuous of us all. People tend to note when an eagle flies over, but they don’t make such a fuss over a dove or pigeon. Dad is an albatross. Needless to say, he doesn’t transform often. He stands out.” She smiled.

Interesting. Bonnie filed that piece of information away for later inspection.

“Come on then,” Marceline sighed, heading for the door. “Let’s go. I’ll show you dad’s lab. You’ll be blown away.”


	17. Ask For Nothing

It turned out that her dad’s ‘lab’ was rather reminisce of a high school science classroom. There were a series of curiously high-tech machines (including all the ones necessary to run blood-tests, how odd), and cabinets upon glass-fronted cabinets of beakers, vials, bottles, decanters, petri dishes and all manner of other items. It was tidy and a rack with white coats, mesh hair nets and gloves hung from pegs stood by the door right beside a small table with a single drawer full of plastic goggles. Very high school classroom.

The room smelt of cleaning detergent and bleach, the floors were scrubbed to a potentially slippery shine and the laminate tops of the benches were waxed. But it was the space that stopped her in her tracks. There was simply so much of it; this was vastly superior to any area she’d used in the past. She could lie down on the floor with her arms outstretched and not touch anything. It was fantastic. 

She beamed at Marceline who only rolled her eyes. “So this is good, huh, geek?”

“Oh wow, yes,” Bonnie replied, stepping into the room and staring around happily. It was like Christmas already. Several doors were located along one wall and she peeked through all of them. “This is a CT scanner!” she exclaimed. “Holy wow! Your dad has all the gadgets.” She ran one finger over the rounded edge of the centrifuge in the corner, completely incapable of wiping the smile from her face. “This is amazing. Really amazing. What I wouldn’t give to work in a place like this.”

Marceline stuffed her hands in her pockets and grinned lopsidedly. “I guess that’s something to check off your bucket list then, yeah?”

“He never actually said I could do the tests you know,” Bonnie pointed out with a frown.

“Ha, that doesn’t matter with my dad,” Marceline replied, laughing. “He stopped arguing, that’s basically a yes. Besides,” she added with a shrug, “I know him very well, Bon. He won’t stop you. He probably thinks it’s a great idea secretly.”

“That’s… probably not as reassuring as you think it is,” Bonnie grumbled. Her eyes scanned the room again, very pleased with everything. She’d probably have to rearrange the equipment to her liking, but it was still pretty great. “But I won’t complain.” Yeah, she’d enjoy working here.

And Marceline knew it. She was smiling smugly even as Bonnie muttered about how she really _shouldn’t_ be doing this if Hunter wasn’t alright with it. Somehow, the infuriating woman knew that Bonnie wouldn’t turn the opportunity down, no matter what anyone had to say about it.

“Welp,” said Marceline, clapping her hands and sliding up onto one table. “Good you like it. I’ll tell Simon to brace himself. What are you… Never mind.”

Bonnie glanced over and frowned again. “What?”

Marceline waved a hand, not meeting her eyes. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to know.”

“Know what?”

She sighed. “Nothing, Bon. That’s the point of not telling you: so I won’t know the answer. And I know you; you’ll have to tell me.” Marceline smiled, but it was pretty pathetic.

“Promise I won’t reply,” she said with one hand on her heart. Sometimes she hated the way her curiosity controlled so much. If she didn’t _have_ to know things, she wouldn’t feel so awful about pressuring people like this. “Please tell me.”

Marceline twisted her lips and looked away, but Bonnie just put one hand on her knee and she sighed again, with resignation this time. “I was just going to ask what tests you’d run on him to work it out. This isn’t something anyone has tried before.”

Bonnie tilted her head. “And why don’t you want to know the answer to that?”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up,” Marceline whispered. “I don’t want to know anything about this, alright? Not a damn thing. Don’t tell me if something goes right; don’t tell me if you have a breakthrough, nothing. I know a cure is a long shot and I’d rather not be thoroughly devastated if you don’t get one. I am to be kept in complete ignorance, fair enough?”

Bonnie smiled, patting Marceline’s knee once. “Fair enough. I promise not to tell you anything. I won’t even smile.” Now Marceline looked at her, a wan smile shining through the grey of her face. “Even though you were so excited about this earlier and you appear to have utterly changed your mind. Not even going to ask about that.”

“I can change my mind, can’t I?” Marceline puffed out her cheeks sheepishly. But it fell apart as a proper grin appeared. “Thanks, Bonnie.”

“That’s what I’m for,” she said with a shrug. “I’d be a pretty awful girlfriend if I ignored what you wanted. Geez.”

And then Marceline was laughing; she outwardly acted much better, happier. Yet Bonnie often wondered how much of what Marceline showed people was just a façade. She was an excellent liar and a terrible communicator. Bonnie hoped Marceline wasn’t just pretending.

“Come on, brainbox,” Marceline chuckled, flopping off the edge of the table. She grabbed Bonnie’s wrist and dragged her to the door. “Let’s go. I feel smarter just standing in here.” She shuddered melodramatically.

“Since when is being smart a bad thing?”

“You have enough intelligence for both of us,” Marceline quipped. “No need for me to hedge in on your thing. I’ll play music, you can be smart. Nice and balanced.”

“A regular match made in heaven,” Bonnie replied wryly. 

“You know it. Let’s bounce.”

Marceline made a point of sticking her head into the lobby before she let Bonnie go through. “Just in case dad’s _guests_ are there,” she informed Bonnie with a flash of her teeth. But other than Clara, who gave them barely a glance, nobody was present. The red-haired thrall kept twisting her swivel chair and it squeaked softly.

Bonnie wanted to talk to her. Her curiosity niggling her again, telling her she needed to know things about thralls. It itched in that spot between her shoulder blades that she couldn’t quite reach. Things like this bothered her but she knew it would probably be impolite to question the little woman. And it would let everyone know that she wasn’t oblivious to the whole ‘supernatural’ thing, which Hunter had made clear was a bad idea.

The doors swished open and she could practically feel Marceline going into shock.

“Hey, sis,” came Marshall’s confident voice. His shoes made sharp tapping sounds on the floor. When his brown eyes landed on Bonnie his steps slowed and his eyebrows disappeared beneath his unkempt hair. “Uh… what are you… doing here?” One hand scratched absently behind his ear while the other gestured vaguely at Bonnibel.

“Just came to visit dad,” Marceline replied softly, brows creased.

“With… Bonnie…?”

Marceline glanced sharply at Clara and nodded outside. Hesitantly, Marshall followed. He kept looking at Bonnie like she was some kind of alien. Probably with slimy green skin and eyes mounted on little wobbling stalks. He was squinting; peering at her in what she assumed was the manner in which she inspected her experiments. It was uncomfortable.

Outside, the sky had clouded over again, casting grey shadows everywhere. Marceline led them along the sidewalk to a small café. The whole time Marshall was staring at Bonnie. It really was disconcerting.

Once they were seated at the little wooden table, Marceline slumped down low, Bonnie with her hands in her lap and Marshall with his elbows on the table; he finally asked his question again. “What on earth were you visiting dad for, Marceline?” he asked lowly, tone bordering on waspish. “And more importantly, why was Bonnibel with you?”

Bonnie lifted an eyebrow at him in askance. What was that supposed to mean? But she was ignored. He just stared at his sister, eyes like pile-drivers, attempting to pierce her soul and forcibly retrieve answers. Apparently Marshall wasn’t only a carefree brat, he was rather intense.

“Figured I’d see dad, that’s all,” Marceline grumbled. “That’s not a crime right?”

His eyes flicked to Bonnie. It was a silent question, but it was there. And it made Marceline somewhat irate. A pretty straight forward defensive technique.

“Don’t have a car, Marshall,” she hissed.

“You don’t need one,” he countered.

Marceline floundered. “Well… I… what does it matter, huh? You go everywhere with Rob.”

Marshall flinched. “Do not. I’ve never taken him to meet dad. You _know_ what happens…” The glance he shot Bonnie was almost imperceptible this time. If Bonnie hadn’t been glaring intently at him she might have missed it. As it was her glare made him blink this time. “What?” he asked her.

“Why can’t we just tell him, Marceline?” Bonnie asked, swinging her gaze to her roommate. “It’s not a big deal.”

Marceline laughed drily. “Not a big deal? C’mon, Bonnie. It’s a _huge_ deal. Don’t underplay it.”

She pursed her lips. “Not a big deal. Tell him. He’s your _brother_ … And you did tell your dad.” She wondered what Marshall had meant when he said about ‘knowing what happens’. A question for another time.

“Tell me what?” he asked, returning his attention to his sister. “What should I know?”

Marceline was grumbling under her breath. ‘Not a big deal’ Bonnie thought she kept repeating. Then she sighed. “Ugh. Don’t ask questions, a’ight, Marshall?” she exhaled. “Just accept it.”

His eyes widened. “What? Marceline… the last time you told me not to ask questions I…” he trailed off, remembering Bonnie was there.

Marceline huffed. “That wasn’t supposed to be there. Anyway, I… uh… we’re kind of… dating.” She gestured at Bonnie. Marshall’s jaw dropped. “Don’t ask, I said.”

“That’s… uh… I didn’t expect that. Cool.” He smirked at Bonnie now. “I guess that means you won’t go out with me?”

“That’s what it means,” Bonnie replied flatly.

“Wait,” Marshall said suddenly, snapping upright in his chair. “But… what about… you know?”

“I said no questions,” Marceline huffed. “I meant it.”

“Oh psh,” Bonnie snapped. She used her index fingers to imitate having fangs. “You’ve got pointy teeth too, right, Marshall?” she teased. Again, his jaw fell open. “That’s not attractive,” Bonnie informed him a little too sweetly.

“She _knows_ ,” he shrieked at Marceline in an oddly feminine screech. He sank back against the chair. “Well… that’s something.” He rolled his eyes at Bonnie. “Yeah, I’ve got fangs too. Wanna see?”

Marceline inhaled sharply. “Uh, no.” She said tersely.

“Relax, I was kidding.” He lounged, propping one foot up on the chair opposite him.

“You’re taking this well,” Bonnie noted softly. “Your whole family must be pretty laid back.”

“You mean Keila, right?” Marshall asked. “Yeah, I guess.” His foot dropped off the chair and he resumed a regular pose. “Wait. Dad knows about… all this?” He waved at them absently.

“Yes, that’s why we visited him,” Bonnie said. “Marceline figured he should know.”

“Damn straight. Are you… alright with… you know, _us_?” he asked, head to one side. He looked like a puppy.

She shrugged. “I don’t see why Marceline keeps trying to make a big deal out of it. It’s not.”

His gaze swivelled back to Marceline. “I’m not going to tell Bubba, just so you know. This is too weird. I mean, yeah, cool, you’re dating, whatever. But the whole… _knowing_ about us thing… Nope.”

“Good,” Marceline growled. “I hadn’t planned on Bonnie finding out.”

“How did you find out?” He peered at Bonnie again in that way she didn’t like.

She shifted in her chair uncomfortably. “I… um… walked into the bathroom while she was casting illusions. It was pretty obvious something wasn’t right… she doesn’t have a reflection.”

“Yeah me neither,” Marshall said grinning. “It’s hereditary.”

“Shut up, Marshall,” Marceline grouched. 

“So you gonna tell everyone the other thing?” he asked, leaning across the table towards Bonnie. “I bet they’ll make a big fuss about it, yeah? Brainiac Bonnibel dating my sister.” He cackled. “That’s the scoop of the century. And I would know.”

“Shut up, Marshall,” Marceline repeated.

Bonnie just shrugged. “Probably… at some point. I don’t want to upset my parents before Christmas.”

His grin broadened. “So you still get presents?”

“No!” Bonnie bristled. “Because then I can say we haven’t argued for a whole year.”

He sat back. “Whoa… you fight a lot with your folks? What on _earth_ about? I thought you were a saint or something.”

“Shut up, Marshall,” Marceline gritted again, arms crossed.

“You shut up,” he replied.

“You met them right?” Bonnie asked wryly. “So you know they’re controlling.”

“Eh, they just need a chill pill,” he shrugged. “One day, they’ll realise that so long as you’re happy, they can just butt out.”

“Ha, not likely. But if you ever figure out how to get them to see sense, you be my guest.”

He flashed his teeth. “I might do just that.”

Marceline jerked to her feet. “We have to go shopping,” she said abruptly. Bonnie was about to tell her that they _didn’t_ , in fact, have to go shopping, but then she realised Marceline was staring across the street.

She followed the gaze and her eyes landed on a tall fellow with bleached hair and military boots. He was walking along the footpath, hadn’t seen them or anything, but he was glancing up at Hunter’s building every few seconds. Marshall turned too and frowned.

“You should go,” he said quietly.

“Yup.” Marceline grabbed Bonnie’s elbow and hauled her from the chair. “We are. Right now. Leaving.”

“Who’s that?” Bonnie asked, feeling very stupid.

“Tell you later,” Marceline told her, ushering her towards the exit. “Don’t look at him. Just keep walking. Later, bro.”

“Later, sis.”

Marceline set a cracking pace towards the car and didn’t stop twitching until they were back in the apartment. And even then she peered out all the windows before drawing the curtains, closing the blinds and locking the door. She never locked the door.

“Marceline?” Bonnie asked, worried.

The other woman collapsed onto the lounge like a puppet without a commanding hand holding its strings taut. Her head lolled against the back of the chair, eyes closed. She looked weary. Bonnie placed careful hands on Marceline’s cheeks and her eyes opened. Fear was written all over them and no matter how hard she wrestled with it, Marceline didn’t seem able to hide it.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was… my ex-boyfriend,” she finally breathed. “The psycho one.”

Bonnie forced a smile. “The sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot?”

A wan grin ghosted across Marceline’s face. “Yeah… that one.”

“So?”

“He’ll hurt you, Bon, without even flinching. If he finds out we’re dating, if he finds out you know I’m not human, any of it. He’ll kill you.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a possessive maniac. He was always a little bit obsessive…” She grimaced. “He likes destructive logic… The ‘if he can’t have me no one can’ kind.”

Bonnie slipped over the arm of the chair to rest her head on Marceline’s shoulder. “I guess I’ll just have to find someone _really_ powerful to knock some sense into him,” she murmured. “Now if only I knew someone like that…”

Marceline laughed this time. “You have too much faith in me.”

“I dunno,” Bonnie sang. “I think I have just enough faith.”

“I can’t beat him, Bon. Sure I could probably give him an arse-kicking he won’t forget, but I can’t make him _permanently_ stop being a douche. I tried once.”

“I guess we’ll have to think of some other way then.” She stretched up to kiss Marceline’s cheek. “Or just avoid him.”

“I’ve been avoiding him for centuries, Bonnie. It’s hard when he goes out of his way to find me. He’s probably here to ask my dad if he’s seen me. Of course, dad’ll give him a tongue lashing and a slap then kick his sorry butt on to the street. But… he won’t leave if there’s even the slightest chance I’m here.” She sighed. “I hate hiding.”

Bonnie used one finger to turn Marceline’s face. “But you get to hide here with me,” she whispered.

That thousand gigawatt smile appeared, canted lopsidedly across Marceline’s face, only a little bit forced. “I guess that’s not the worst thing.” Marceline kissed her nose. “We can watch movies _all day long_.”

Bonnie only laughed.


	18. Just What You’re Thinking

“You’re going to _what_ now?”

Rain shrieked down the phone lines so loudly Bonnie had to hold the earpiece away from her head. She sighed, what had she expected really? No other reaction was even worth considering.

“Pretty sure you heard me correctly, Rain,” Bonnie muttered wryly. “Which is why you’re screaming at me.”

“You _never_ give up on things,” Rain was spluttering now. It came precariously close to being called ‘rambling’. “You practically _hoard_ jobs. You’re _quitting_?”

“As it turns out, teaching isn’t really my thing,” she replied flatly. “Do you know how hard it is to get anything through to those kids? They don’t want to learn about science. And it frustrates me that they don’t grasp things as easily as I did. I wish I could… plug them in somewhere and just… _upload_ all the knowledge they need. Then we could have intelligent conversations.”

Rain continued to splutter. “So you’re just going to… leave? Quit? Elle… that’s out of character.” A pause. “Should I… maybe… wonder how much influence Marceline is on you?”

Colour flooded her cheeks and Bonnie was suddenly ever-so-glad that she’d elected to tell her friend the news over the phone. “Hardly. I got a new job as an actual assistant in a _lab_ , Rain. With _experiments_. I had to cut back or… there would have been a lot of arguing about it. So I thought about which job I could live without and… let’s face it, I can’t leave the library. And my parents still expect my help or face their wrath, so the tutoring it was. Pretty simple. It was an opportunity not to pass up.”

Rain sighed. “That makes sense I guess.” Then she positively squealed. “Oh, Elle, you get to work in a lab? With white coats and goggles? Filling glass bottles with unknown mixtures that will probably kill the planet? I’m so proud of you.” Another pause, this one slightly heavier than the last. “Who hired you?”

“Uh…” she deflated. _Cake_. Bonnie had to admit, she hadn’t thought Rain would ask her that. As such, she had no response prepared. Maybe… “Marceline’s dad.” She hoped the truth wouldn’t get her in over her head.

Her statement was met with complete silence. It took a moment, then, “Her dad? Gave you a job? What does he even do?”

“He… I don’t know. Accounting mostly, I think. But Marceline said he likes to dabble in lots of stuff. And, given her penchant for displaying talents no one would ever have expected, I’m inclined to believe it runs in the family.”

“Oh. Well ok then.” That was… easy. Bonnie frowned at the phone. Was it _too_ easy? “Hey, are you coming to dinner on the weekend?”

“What dinner?”

“Elle! Do you live under a rock? Finn’s new roommate.”

Bonnie smiled, feeling suddenly mischievous and not knowing why. Before she could stop herself, a rather tarter question than she would usually ask just… fell out. “What? Are we eating her or something? That doesn’t seem very nice, Rain.”

Rain… huffed…? Perhaps that wasn’t quite the correct word. But Bonnie imagined, should she   
have been drinking something, it would have spurted out her nose. “What now? No. We’re going over to their place for a meal, Elle. And we won’t be eating Finn’s techie roommate.”

Much restraint went into not saying ‘shame’. Marceline really was the _worst_ influence on her ever. The absolute worst. “I suppose I’ll be there then,” she said instead. “I don’t have any other plans.”

“Of course you don’t. Whatever will you do with yourself now that you’ve quit a job?” Then Rain thought of something better and somewhat more teasing to ask. “Did it hurt you physically to hand in your resignation?” Soft chuckles echoed through the phone.

“No. I imagine I’ll find other things to do. Besides, I did get a replacement job.” She glared at the cupboard, once again free of edible substances. It was such a bother to food shop twice a week. “Plus Marceline would…” she left that sentence unfinished. “Truffles,” she grumbled. “How can we not have any bread?”

She could feel Rain staring at her confusedly, practically shaking her head at the weirdness of it all. “Will you have lunch with us tomorrow? Can you fit that into your hectic life? I feel like it’s been ages.”

“About a week, actually.”

“I think that constitutes ages. Besides, Finn hasn’t seen you in a while and I’m _sure_ he misses you.” Now, Bonnie knew Rain was grinning manically.

“Oh no, don’t you be brining that up again,” Bonnie grouched into the mouthpiece. 

“Why don’t you just go out with the poor guy once? Put him out of his misery.”

“I’m not going to lead him on, Rain.” Again, the other reason she didn’t want to date went unspoken. It occurred to her just how invested everyone was in her love life and how much that irked her. They should all… butt out. “It’s just puppy love. He’ll get over it.”

“Uh-huh, sure. So, are we on for lunch?”

She fiddled with the door to the fridge for one long moment, then closed her eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

“Cool. Maybe we can go bowling.”

“Maybe keep the bowling for the weekend. I’m sure Bianca would appreciate that.”

“Oh, by the way, don’t call her Bianca, she hates it.”

“What am I supposed to call her then?”

“Bee.”

“Like the insect?”

“The same.”

“So just… Bee. She sounds quite odd, Rain.”

Rain laughed. “And you know all about odd, Elle. See you tomorrow.” The line _booped_ disconnected and Bonnie sighed.

“Oh yes. I know all about odd.”

 

*

 

“Don’t you think your friends make too much fuss about staying in touch?” Marceline grumped from the dining table. It was nearly inaudible, what with her face being pressed into the surface and all; she had her hands on the back of her head, hair splayed across the wood. She was being rather melodramatic about the whole thing. So typical behaviour.

“I didn’t ask you to come with,” Bonnie pointed out as she re-entered the room.

Marceline groaned. “Every week you all do something. Isn’t there a rule about personal space or whatever?”

“Still didn’t ask you to come.”

“And you and Robert drag Marshall and me with you every single time,” Marceline went on, ignoring Bonnie. “Can’t we just… not go?”

“You don’t have to go,” Bonnie replied. “But I am.” Sometimes she might be a little put out when her friends asked her out, but she did like to see them. And since they’d all graduated, staying in touch required concerted effort. “Nobody needs you to be there, Marceline.”

Now she sat up, hair in complete disarray. “You don’t need me there?” The hurt in her voice was so convincing Bonnie wasn’t sure it was entirely feigned.

She sighed. “My life doesn’t revolve around you, you know.” Bonnie hitched her satchel a little higher on her shoulder and headed for the door. “I’ll see you later then.”

Marceline just sat, mouth dangling open, at the kitchen table and watched her go. The door clicked shut, but Bonnie didn’t make it far. 

“Wait!” The door burst back open and Marceline covered the ground between them in three quick, somewhat gravity defying steps. “Wait. What did you mean? You don’t need me there?”

“If you don’t want to go, don’t go,” Bonnie said simply. “That’s all. I’m not going to _make_ you go, and I can’t stop you from doing something else. But I’m not going to cry about it either. That’s silly.”

Marceline shuffled her feet, looking very uncomfortable. “Yeah ok.” Her hand unconsciously rubbed her neck. “So… you um…” She looked away. “Never mind.”

Bonnie sighed again, feeling cornered. “What, Marceline? Tell me.”

The other woman grimaced but didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s nothing.” She turned away.

Bonnie grabbed her elbow. “Nuh-uh, not buying it.” She stepped around to glare at Marceline from in front. “What’s wrong?”

“You just…” Marceline waved a hand before letting it fall to her side. “Your life doesn’t revolve around me.”

Bonnie smiled. “Does that bother you?”

Marceline started and finally looked at her. “Well… just a little.”

“Hate to tell you this, Abadeer, but my life revolved just fine before you wandered in,” she teased. “Dare say, should you ever wander on back out, it’ll keep spinning.”

It took a moment, but a fleeting smile ghosted across Marceline’s face. Barely more than a twitch at the corners of her mouth. “That’s… I… never mind.”

Bonnie’s hand slid down Marceline’s arm and wound between her fingers. “Hey. My life _doesn’t_ revolve around you; I function fine when you aren’t in the room. You don’t _have_ to come and I won’t ask you to if you don’t want to. But I would like it if you came.”

Marceline’s eyes were glued to where their hands touched. “You would?” she asked softly. “Even if you don’t need me?”

Bonnie tilted her head. “Need is a funny word, Marceline,” she said. “I need oxygen to survive, but with or without you, I’ll keep on breathing. Having you around is just nice.”

Now, she wasn’t exactly sure what the emotion was that flashed across Marceline’s features this time, but at first she thought it was disappointment. That couldn’t be right.

“Just nice…” Marceline said, biting her lip. “Ok.” Oh how Bonnie wished she knew what Marceline was thinking. It must be a funny place, the mind of a vampire. “I’ll come with you then. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to see friends once a week.”

She tugged on the hand she held, pulling Marceline closer. “Thanks,” she whispered. “Will you come with on the weekend to meet Bianca?”

“Probably,” Marceline said with a shrug. “Got nothing else to do.”

“Good to hear,” Bonnie replied, kissing her cheek. “Let’s go then.”

 

*

 

The restaurant was surprisingly close to empty when they arrived. Only two tables had occupants, one was a family of four who didn’t even glance at them as they walked in. Seated at the other were Jake, Rain and Finn, all of whom grinned when they looked up.

“About time you got here,” Rain said, sliding over so Bonnie could sit next to her. Jake and Finn were on one side of the booth and Marceline slumped down next to Bonnie, glaring at the table top. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

“What’s up with her?” Jake asked softly, nodding at Marceline. The vampire’s scowl only deepened with his words.

“I’m honestly not sure,” Bonnie replied. She elbowed Marceline in the ribs. “Cheer up you big sad sack. It’s not the end of the world.”

Marceline sighed. “Sorry, just… thinking.”

“What about?” Finn asked her, smiling.

“Nothing important.” But the glance she shot Bonnie implied it wasn’t as unimportant as she’d like the others to think.

“Well cheer up then,” Finn effused. “It’s a lovely day. We should go somewhere.” That last was directed at Jake. Then he shuffled around in his chair to grin at Bonnie and Rain. “Come on, let’s go _do_ something.”

“I did suggest bowling,” Rain added. Her covert glimpse over at Bonnie coupled with the teasing smile spoke volumes.

“I maintain we should keep the bowling for another time,” Bonnie sighed in response to the silent question. “We could go on the weekend with Bianca.”

Finn shook his head. “Nah, let’s go today.” He bounced to his feet.

“What about food?” Jake whined at him, eyes going wide.

“Oh right.” Finn collapsed indelicately back into the bench. “Lunch first, then bowling.”

Marceline nudged Bonnie in the ribs. ‘Bowling,’ she mouthed impishly.

Bonnie only rolled her eyes. “I guess we’re going bowling then.”

 

*

 

Lunch was over as fast as Finn could shovel food into his mouth. He bounced enthusiastically in his seat the whole time as though hyped up on far too much sugar. It was enough to make grouchy Marceline forget she was supposed to be in a bad mood and even earned a smile. 

The bowling alley was crowded with kids, school holidays would do that to most places. And even if a vast majority of kids thought of such activities as ‘lame’, preferring to spend their days invested in computer games, a herd of them filled every available space. The noise was almost a physical entity. Marceline flinched as they walked through the doors, rubbing one ear with a quivering finger.

Finn bounded over to the reception desk and had them booked in so fast it was almost inhuman. It didn’t take long before Jake was as pumped up as his brother, already boasting about how fantastic he was at bowling. Rain sighed, rolling her eyes fondly, not quite stifling a smile. The antics were pretty standard and reminded Bonnie of why it was she made time for her friends. Marceline though was still upset about the noise level.

“My ears can’t take much more of this, Bonnie,” she grumbled. “Do they rent earmuffs or something?” She paused, thinking. “Or could I violently remove some of the kids do you reckon?”

“Please don’t hurt the kids, Marcy,” she exhaled. “Just… I don’t know, wave your hand and magic your ears closed.”

Marceline grinned, her previous bad mood had melted away it seemed. “Never tried that before, but I guess there’s a first for everything.” So she did just what Bonnie had suggested, blinking a few times when it worked.

“Can you still hear me?” Bonnie enquired.

Marceline had her head on one side, still blinking a little more than usual. “Hang on.” She stuck the end of one long digit into an ear and rotated it like she was adjusting the volume knob in the car. “Try again?”

“Can you hear me?”

She stuck out a thumb’s up. “Loud and clear, captain.” Slinging her rented shoes over one shoulder by their laces she meandered over to the others. “Let’s go kick their butt.”

“How are we going to team up?” Rain asked thoughtfully, lips pursed. “There’s an odd number of us.”

Finn and Jake exchanged glances. “Girls versus boys,” Finn eventually exclaimed, grinning broadly. 

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Marceline opined, tugging on her shoes. She didn’t bother to lace them up. “We’ll crush you.”

Jake sidled up to her and said in a low voice, “Yeah, but Rain and Bonnie kind of suck at bowling.” He shot a glance at his girlfriend, hoping she hadn’t heard. “I don’t really know why Rain likes it so much.”

Marceline positively cackled. “We’re still going to crush you.”

“You’re going to try, Abadeer,” Finn replied. He hefted a shiny blue ball and punched his name into the computer. “But Jake and I are bowling _champions_.” Lifting the ball above his head like a trophy he headed off to the alley. “And we will never be defeated!”

Rain giggled softly, entering the rest of their names into the database and setting up the game. “They’re right. We really don’t stand a chance. Plus Jake’s a sore loser.”

“Hey,” he said, hurt. “Not all the time.”

Marceline slumped into the chair beside Bonnie and smiled. “Do you really suck at bowling?” she asked sweetly.

Bonnie shrugged. “It’s not my strongest skill,” she admitted. “But I can hold my own. The game is essentially about making sure the ball of the correct weight for you is sent along the right path to hit as many pins as possible. Finn says I overthink it.”

“You overthink a lot of things.”

“Are you done being in a foul temper then,” Bonnie enquired, changing the subject bluntly.

Marceline flinched. “I was… just…”

“You clam up a lot. Just spit it out. I promise I won’t hate you.” She smiled, but Marceline grimaced, avoiding her eyes.

Finally, Marceline sighed and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “I know you don’t want everyone to know, but it sort of bothers me… that… that you can just… not tell them. Like it’s not a big deal.”

Bonnie’s head whipped around to look at her. “The point is that it _is_ kind of a big deal, Marceline,” she muttered back. “Which is why I don’t want them to know.”

“This morning you made it seem like… I don’t know… like… like I meant nothing.” Marceline closed her eyes and sighed. “Man. Emotions suck.”

Bonnie jabbed her in the shoulder. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I guess it did sound kind of insensitive.” Thinking back, she probably could have worded it better. “But I didn’t mean-”

“Hey, Marceline,” Finn yelled, planting his feet in front of her. “It’s your go.”

A smile burst across her face as she launched to her feet. “You better watch yourself,” she chuckled. “I’ll go easy on you, yeah?”

“Give it your best shot,” Finn laughed. He put his fists up like he was going to fight her before collapsing into the chair she’d just vacated. “Bet you can’t do better.”

Bonnie glanced up at the score board. Finn had a spare slashed next to his name, Rain had earned seven points and Jake had chalked up nine. But Bonnie knew exactly what Marceline was going to do. She could feel it in her bones. Sure enough, with the merest flick of her wrist, so casual it was almost lazy, the ball knocked down all ten pins. Finn’s jaw dropped.

“No way,” he breathed. Bonnie just smiled.

Marceline grinned obnoxiously at them. “I think that’s high five material, don’t you reckon?” Finn obliged. “You’re up, Bon.”

Selecting a ball with a glossy green finish, Bonnie peered down the alley, head on one side, thinking. A step to her left, a little bit of spin on the ball, a slight curve across to the right of the lane. She stuck her tongue between her teeth. Yes, that ought to do it. Two short steps, a twist to her wrist right at the last moment and… strike. She blinked, having only expected to hit eight pins, leaving the last two for her next go. Oh well.

All of them save Marceline were staring at her slack-jawed. “What was that?” asked Rain.

“I miscalculated,” Bonnie replied. “The ball went too far right. I should only have hit eight.”

Marceline beamed. “ _That_ was a miscalculation,” she chuckled. “Only you could say that.”

Finn’s lower jaw was still lolling on the floor in an unattractive fashion. “Could you do that every time?” he asked softly. He stood hesitantly to take his turn.

“Hum… no, probably not. Like I said, that was an accident.”

True to that, she couldn’t manage to get another strike all game. Although Marceline blew everyone’s minds by getting nothing but. Finn and Jake would worship her for that if nothing else.

“How do you do it?” Jake finally asked. Clearly he wasn’t sure whether to be bummed out, angry, frustrated or in complete awe. “It’s almost freakish.”

Marceline shrugged. “I’m a freak.” She tugged the shoes off and tossed them in the return basket. She grinned at him. “I like to be good at things.” A mysterious answer if ever there was one.

“Are you coming to Finn’s on the weekend, Marceline?” asked Rain softly. She was just clipping the last buckle on her shoes, rented ones sitting neatly beside her. “Marshall said he’ll be there.”

“Course he will,” she grouched, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Guess I’ll show up then. Might be nice to meet her, yeah? Even if she does sound a bit odd.”

Finn looked up. “Don’t call her Bianca,” he explained. “Just Bee.”

“Like the letter?”

Bonnie laughed and nodded. It was funny that they’d both thought different things, but she didn’t explain that and Finn looked at her like she’d sprouted a second head. Rain only smiled.

“Let’s go,” Jake said quietly to Rain. He put her shoes back for her. Sometimes he had moments of gentlemanly graciousness, though they were hidden most of the time behind his somewhat rough-around-the-edges enthusiasm. “Finn you coming with us?”

“Uh…” he glanced over at Bonnie and Marceline. “Yeah, of course.” His cheeks went red and he hastened for the exit. “How else would I get home? You drove me here.” He grumbled something about ‘should have driven himself’ before leaving.

“See you on the weekend then,” Rain said brightly, following him. “Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Marceline replied flatly. “Going home?” she asked Bonnie.

“Where else would we be going?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “You’ve got the keys. You could take us anywhere.”

“I’m taking us home. That alright with you?”

“Only if we stop for pizza on the way. I’m starved.”

Late afternoon traffic slowed them down and Marceline wanted to eat in the car, but they finally made it home as the last rays of the sun winked out. Marceline flopped face first onto the sofa and groaned. “I hate long days,” she complained.

Bonnie sat on the arm of the chair and patted the back of her roommate’s head absently. “You’ll be fine.”

“Mmm… you think?” Marceline propped herself up on her elbows and frowned. “I exercised an awful lot of restraint today you know. I didn’t even give you a knuckle bump when you got that strike. Took a lot out of me.”

“It was positively heroic,” Bonnie informed her wryly.

“Don’t mock.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were… upset earlier. I think. It’s hard to tell. You don’t like showing emotions.”

“Aw,” she huffed, folding her arms. “I thought I did a pretty good job of doing the whole… _feelings_ thing.” Marceline grouched and slumped back down on the couch.

“Not really,” Bonnie said, sliding off the arm to sit next to her. “You could practice.”

Marceline glanced up at her. “I’m not very good at breaking old habits, Bonnie,” she warned. “And I’ve had a lot of time to be very good at bottling things up.”

“Don’t do that anymore. Tell me things.”

Marceline righted herself, head tilted up against the back of the chair. “Alright. What you said this morning… it hurt. I don’t really know why though. It’s a fact, isn’t it?”

“It was a fact, yes,” Bonnie agreed. “But I suppose… I guess I know why it hurt. I wasn’t very tactful.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

Marceline looked over at her now, smiling sadly. “Hurt did it? Saying you’re sorry?”

Bonnie sighed. “No… I just… should probably learn to think about how people might react before I blurt things out. Factual or not.”

Marceline bumped her shoulder. “I think I can forgive you. Yeah?”

“Thanks. And I’ll forgive you for being insecure. Goodness knows you have a reason to be.”

“Pft,” Marceline snorted. “Me? Insecure? I think you’ve got the wrong person, there, Bon.” But she was grinning again now, blindingly. 

“Hum…” Bonnie mused. “I don’t need you, at least, not like I need oxygen. But I do kind of like having you around.”

“Well that’s good to hear. Now. I’m going to eat before I starve to death.”


	19. Like I Wasn’t Scared At All

It would seem that, no matter how old Marceline really was, she couldn’t read maps.

“I don’t do that alright?” she fumed for the umpteenth time. She snapped the paper between her hands, folding it up and slapping it on the dash. “I don’t read maps. Ever. Period. I just… don’t. Ok?”

“Fine,” Bonnie sighed. “No need to get so testy about it. Do you remember the address at least?”

Marceline pouted. “Of course I remember the address. What kind of lame excuse for a vampire do you take me for? It was the corner of Hawthorne and Victoria Street. Apartment thirty-seven. My memory is fine.”

“I never said you were forgetful. Only that you’re _useless_ as a navigator. Aren’t you supposed to be multi-talented?”

Marceline hunched her shoulders and slid down in her seat. “It never seemed important. I don’t usually worry so much about where I’m going or how to get there. I just…”

“Go places,” Bonnie finished for her. “Your brother says you don’t have a romantic bone in your body, but that’s a pretty idealised notion of travel.”

Mouth open, eyebrows hidden in her hair, Marceline stared at her. “What now?”

“The journey is more important than the destination…” Bonnie’s eyes widened at the blank expression Marceline wore. “You’ve never heard that? How old are you?”

Marceline stuck her tongue out. “What’s it supposed to mean anyway?”

“That it’s better to enjoy the ‘doing’ of something and not focus too much on what comes from it.”

“Sounds philosophical and boring.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“I try.” She paused, chewing her lower lip. “Hey,” she finally put forth. “Are you going to tell your friends before or after your parents… about us,” she clarified.

“Why?”

Marceline shrugged. “Just thinking… maybe if they’re not going to think it’s weird, tell them first, you know? Plus Rain’s your best friend and all that stuff.”

“Hm.” Bonnie thought about that for a good long while. Then, “Perhaps you’re right. I don’t know how good Jake and Finn are at keeping secrets, but Rain can. I’m sure they can stay quiet for another… what is it?”

“Just over a week until Christmas,” Marceline replied. “Ten days to be precise. I know how you like precise things.” She grinned toothily.

“You’re insufferable. This street?”

Marceline peered out the window, eyes flashing across street signs and speed-reading the names printed on billboards. “Uh… yeah. On the right, not this corner the one after it.” She leaned across to stare at the building she thought it was. “Oh, no, not that one. The next one. Sorry.”

Bonnie sighed. “Useless.”

“Hey, I’m a visual learner,” Marceline replied defensively. “Just because you can read a thing once and remember it forever, that’s no call to be judgey.”

She lifted an eyebrow, indicating as she waited for a lull in the oncoming traffic. “Judgey?”

“I’m allowed to make up new words,” Marceline said lightly. “I am a neologist, and I do what I want. _Judgey_.”

Bonnie backed the car into a corner behind a post; she was just a little bit paranoid about her car being broken or stolen. Without a car she’d have no way of getting around and that was the most horrid thing she could think of. For undercover parking below an apartment building, the lot was well lit too, nice and secure.

“So,” Marceline laughed as they headed for the stairwell. “You gonna tell them, then? Or do I have to make another new word for your neurotic behaviour.”

“I’m hardly neurotic, Marceline. But we’ll see. As I recall, we still haven’t actually gone on a date.”

“Pretty sure we spend enough time together-”

“Dinner on the couch with a movie doesn’t count. Your brother was right; not a single romantic bone.” She jabbed a finger at Marceline’s shoulder.

Marceline swung the door open and bowed mockingly as she waited for Bonnie to go through. “In that case; Bonnie, will you go out with me tomorrow night?”

Bonnie smiled at her. “I’ll have to check my schedule… Also my roommate sometimes springs a movie night and I’m never allowed to miss it.”

“She sounds like a nightmare.”

“She’s not all bad.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“Of course it’s a ‘yes’.”

Marceline hung off the door, swinging with it as it pulled closed. One hand on the knob and only one foot on the ground, she leaned right in close to Bonnie until their noses were practically touching, her heart pounding in her ears, as always. “Excellent,” she whispered. She let go of the door and fell forward the last little bit, pressing her lips to Bonnie’s briefly. A laugh gurgled up her throat as Bonnie took a slow step backwards.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Bonnie breathed, glaring at her. She positively hated how easily Marceline could get a reaction out of her. “I’d hate to be late again.”

After the first flight and the realisation that Finn and Bee were rather high up, Bonnie left the well and entered the elevator. It climbed the other five floors much faster than she would. It took them nearly five minutes to find apartment thirty-seven, but that was only because the number had been painted over and a large laminated sheet was tacked to the door. In big black letters it read ‘No Salespeople’ and beneath that it had a little angry text face. Marceline lifted the notice and underneath were the missing apartment numbers, though the same colour as the door and almost impossible to read.

“Paranoid?” Marceline asked her amusedly. 

“Or just frustrated with random people knocking on her door trying to convert her to some belief or sell her insurance or whatever,” Bonnie mused. “I can relate.”

Marceline smirked at her and rapped three times on the door. Bonnie waited, expecting her to keep knocking like she usually did, but her hand stilled and she shoved it in her pocket. Curious.

The door creaked open out to the length of the chain locking it. A pair of aqua eyes peeked through at them. “Who are you?” asked the girl in a vaguely Scottish accent.

Marceline cleared her throat. “I’m here to offer you the chance-”

The door slammed in her face, cutting off the words mid-stream. Marceline huffed. “That wasn’t very nice,” she grumbled.

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly have expected a different response. Honestly.” This time Bonnie knocked and when the door opened again, she spoke before Marceline could open her mouth. “Sorry about her, she’s mentally six. Finn invited us over for dinner. I’m Bonnibel and this is Marceline. Ignore her.”

The eyes widened and the young woman (who Bonnie assumed would be Bianca) slid the chain out and opened the door. She stuck out a hand. “I’m Bee,” she said. “Sorry about that.” She was dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a green shirt that was mostly hidden beneath an apron that read ‘the cook picks the tunes’. Black hair in a pixie cut stuck out around her equally pixie-esque face. It was streaked lightly with green to match her eyes.

“Nah,” Marceline replied with a grin. “I should apologise. It was pretty childish. But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“Opportunity only knocks once,” Bee agreed with a laugh.

Marceline glanced over at Bonnie. “I like her. She’s funny.”

“And cooking,” Bonnie noted, raising an eyebrow at the apron. “My brother isn’t here yet? Normally he’d be only too keen to snatch your spatula away.”

Bee smiled. “You have a brother? Finn’s been sort of mysterious about his friends. I get the impression he wanted to have you all here before he started rambling.”

“Finn? Ramble?” Bonnie asked dryly. “Why I think you have the wrong fellow.” Bee chuckled. “Is anyone else here yet? Or, by some miraculous feat of magic, are we actually early?”

Bee threw out a hand, motioning them into the apartment proper. “Rain and Jake have been here for a few hours. Rain to tidy, Jake to play on the Play Station.”

“Rain is ever one to make sure a place is presentable,” Bonnie muttered, looking around. It was a pretty standard sort of place, clean, ivory painted walls, wood floor. Interestingly, it had a short hallway with two cupboards, one on either side. Then it opened up into the living room, the dining room was up a pair of steps and hidden behind a hip-high divider. An archway led to another hallway, presumably with bedrooms and bathroom attached.

“Bathroom is down there,” Bee informed them with a casual hand wave. “Second door on the left.”

“Need a hand in the kitchen?” Marceline asked absently. She was peering across the living room, clearly fascinated by the television. Easily larger than theirs. Monolithic almost. Jake was playing a game of some sort with Finn sprawled out on the sofas. “Nice.”

“Uh, no, thanks,” Bee said quickly. “Just about done.”

“Is that Robert?” Rain’s voice echoed down the hallway. She popped out through the arch wiping her hands and smiling. “Well, you made it before they did.”

“Navigational errors and all,” Bonnie replied happily.

“Hey. I _can_ read maps you know,” Marceline grouched. She slumped into one of the ladder back dining chairs and crossed her arms. “I just… have trouble applying the little symbols to real life. That’s all.”

“You got _lost_?” Rain cried incredulously. Bee giggled.

“We didn’t get lost,” Marceline replied. She was being only a touch too defensive. “One wrong turn does not mean we got lost.”

Thankfully, Marceline was saved from more gobsmacked questions when Bee yelled, “Finn! Get your butt in here if you want to eat this evening.” Wordless affirmations sounded from the living room and were followed shortly by Finn and Jake.

“Elle!” Jake enthused, throwing his arms around her. “So glad you could make it.”

“I did say I’d be here,” Bonnie answered, amused. “You only saw me two days ago.”

He shrugged, teeth flashing in a grin. “Yeah, well, you hide away a lot. It’s nice to see you more often.”

“Amen,” said Rain, bobbing her head. “You do need to get out more. And here I was thinking a roommate would help with that.” She turned an expression – heated – but not quite a glare Marceline’s way.

Marceline started, throwing her hands up. “Whoa, hey. How is Bonnie’s misanthropy suddenly my fault?”

“Give her a break, Rain,” said Finn gently. “We all know how stubborn Elle is.”

Bonnie huffed. Stubborn, yeah sure, but they didn’t have to make it sound like a bad thing. “Aren’t we going to eat?” she asked, hoping to side track them all. Marceline smirked at her.

“Don’t you want to wait for the others?” Bee queried, evidently confused.

“Nah,” Jake replied happily. “They’re late, they miss out on dinner.”

Bee smiled. “That’s a little mean. But I guess it makes sense. Early bird gets the worm and all that.”

An extensive spread had been laid out along the bench, various meats, some fish, an abundance of salads, several pasta dishes as well as sauces and bread buns. It was quite a lot of food. She had no doubt it would be gone in a few days. The kitchen had been set out like a buffet, clearly the idea was for each person to fill their plate along the wall and then sit, which would avoid clutter and clumsy spills. Once they were all seated, the conversation hit a dead spot.

At least, that was until banging started on the door. Persistent, loud and somewhat heavy handed, Bonnie half thought whoever it was would put a hole through the wood. They exchanged glances before Bee stood. Finn stood too and went as far as the steps, then just watched as Bee pulled the door in slightly.

Marceline had her chair back on two legs and was peering down the hall, sitting on one side of the table, closest to the end, she had the best view. Her chair rocked back down to all fours and Bonnie heard the door creak open fully. Mere moments later, Marshall swaggered into the kitchen, Rob and Bee not far behind.

“Sup all,” he beamed. He spared a particularly pointed look for Bonnie and paired it with a knowing little smile. The kind that promised things. She glared back. “Hey Bonnie, sis. Got up to anything… _interesting_ lately?”

Marceline looked ready to throttle him. “No,” she ground out. “What about you?”

“Chill, Marce,” he grinned. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Sure.”

“Bee, this is Elle’s brother, Robert,” Finn said. He was being very gentlemanly with the introductions and all. “And Marceline’s brother, Marshall.”

“Believe it or not,” Marceline cut across Finn. “But Marshall is actually _more_ childish than I am.” Bee smiled and Marshall scowled.

“They’re roommates too,” Finn concluded, trying not to seem put out by the interruption.

“No,” Bee breathed. “That’s way freaky. Did you plan that?”

“Nope,” Marshall told her. His good cheer washed away the ire of moments before like it had never been as he piled a plate high with food. “Pure coinky dink.”

“That’s excellent,” Bee noted. Marshall slid into the chair opposite his sister, sparing her a cheeky glance before looking over at Rob and patting the table next to him. Bonnie’s heart sank. He was going to make this visit so much harder than it had to be.

Thankfully, inane conversation saved her from any jibes Marshall had tucked up his sleeve. Of course, Bee didn’t know anything about them, any of them, so her questions were all fairly standard. What do you do? What do you like? Seen any good movies lately? That kind of thing. The simple questions.

Bee herself was (aside from being technologically savvy) somewhat of a freelancer. She had taken a law class with Finn early in the year, but dropped out because it wasn’t her scene. Now, apparently, she worked mostly in design and computer science. A very multi-talented woman.

Unthinkingly, Bonnie pushed her plate over to Marceline and pointed at the capsicum in her salad. Bonnie wasn’t much of a fan of capsicum. Not as a sliced vegetable anyway. It was ok in spices. Who on Earth even put sliced capsicum in a salad? Bee evidently, but that was beside the point. Marceline, understanding what Bonnie meant because they had a similar agreement for other foods, used her cutlery to deftly remove the offending vegetable and thoughtfully replaced it with tomato. It was pretty mutual; Bonnie detested capsicum, Marceline loathed tomato, but they each liked the other. Worked out nicely in the end. However, nobody else at the table was aware of their arrangement and Rain actually put her utensils down to stare at Bonnie.

“Um… Do that often?” she asked softly.

Bonnie went bright red when she realised what Rain meant, but Marceline only laughed. “I’m allergic to tomato,” Marceline explained. “And Bonnie hates capsicum. So we swap. Simple.”

“Uh… huh,” Rain said, taking up her fork again.

“You do the same thing with Jake,” Bonnie pointed out. “Only with you two it’s cherries and cauliflower.” She paused to think about that. “Not that you ever really have a meal involving both of those things at the same time. The principle is still the same.”

“Fair point,” Jake said, waving his knife for emphasis. “Whatever works, right?”

“Exactly,” Marceline concluded. She flicked an elusive tomato onto Bonnie’s plate, having missed it before. “And I can’t stand tomato,” she grumbled.

“So, who wants dessert?” Bee asked once the last plate was cleared.

“Ugh,” groaned Rob. “I couldn’t eat another bite.” Marceline and Marshall exchanged sunny glances but remained silent.

Rain stood slowly, rubbing her temple, and began to stack the dishes, ready for washing. At which point Marshall and Jake slipped from the table and hustled into the living room. Marceline was, with a guilty smile, quick to follow. Bonnie sighed and helped Rain rearrange the kitchen.

“Holy mother of all that’s sacred,” came an awed call from the living room. “What even is all this?”

Bee peered over the divider, grinning. “You like it, huh? I got most of the stuff from work. Freebies. It’s my baby.”

Marceline waved a hand at the wall mounted speakers. “This is incredible.” Her eyes narrowed. “Where do you work that you get stuff like this for free? I want to work there.”

Bee giggled and flounced down the pair of steps. No doubt to brag subtly and it served the dual purpose of getting her away from the washing up. There was no space for a dishwasher in the small kitchen; a sink meant hand cleaning was the only option.

Filling the sink with scalding water, Bonnie began to wash. She was pretty used to it. Although Rob wasn’t a shirker and for all the years they’d lived together he’d always helped her clean up after a meal. Marceline did too… but Bonnie suspected that she didn’t want to and that was why she ate take out so much and used mostly disposable plates. Rain took up a rag to dry the dishes with and placed them neatly on the table. Finn shuffled his feet, uncomfortable, but didn’t flee the scene.

“Uh… how can I help out?” he asked.

Rain and Bonnie swapped looks, then Rain handed him a plate. “You know where everything lives,” she said. “How about you just make sure the kitchen doesn’t get cluttered.”

He gave her a relieved grin, clearly glad to be of use. Finn was somewhat hesitant and uncertain sometimes. Bonnie worried.

“Nice of you to stay and help,” she said sincerely. Even Rob was gone from the kitchen.

“Oh.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen all Bee’s toys before. Nice as they are, I don’t really need another run down.” He smiled wanly. “You know I didn’t think you guys would like her.”

“Why ever not?” Rain asked, stunned.

“She’s… well she’s a bit different,” he explained. “She doesn’t like… ‘ _girl_ ’ things. Bee’s really into sports and games and computer technology. And cars. She’s a bit of a grease monkey actually. I kind of expected you to dislike her.”

“Are you kidding?” Rain laughed. “After meeting the Abadeers I think I can take it.” She smiled over her shoulder at Finn. “She’s nice. So she’s not a princess like Elle, but she’s polite and she sure can cook.”

“I’m not a princess,” Bonnie grumbled. “And Finn, at the very least she’ll have permanent friends in Marshall and Marceline. They both seem quite taken with her. Please don’t let her date Marshall. That would be awful for her.”

Half way through the dishes, muttering about the filthy water, Bonnie refilled the sink. Her hands were red and wrinkled from being submerged in the hot water. Yet she didn’t mind doing the work really. She supposed it needed doing and it didn’t take long. Still, with all of three dishes to go, Marceline appeared at her shoulder, tugging on the hem of her shirt.

“C’mon, you have to see this,” Marceline mumbled into her ear. Heat flooded her face as Bonnie realised how close Marceline was and she was glad that she could claim the colour was due to the water temperature. “Come _on_ , Bonnie. Please?”

“I have two dishes left, Marceline,” Bonnie growled back. “You can wait that long.”

“It might be gone when you finish.”

“I doubt that.”

Marceline’s hand wound into her shirt, pulling more insistently. “Please? Please come and see.” Rain watched with an amused expression but made no move to assist Bonnie, despite silent pleas for it. “Come on, come on, come _on_.”

Bonnie waved a frying pan above her head, hoping it was close to Marceline’s face. “This is the last dish. Hold onto your pants. I’m not leaving this half done because you’re impatient.”

Marceline huffed but didn’t let go of her shirt. She didn’t stop yanking on it either. Consequently, when Bonnie slammed the pan onto the drying rack and spun in a temper, she almost fell over. It was a good thing Marceline hadn’t let her go. Once she had regained her balance, Marceline dragged her from the kitchen, not even letting her dry her hands first. The absolute nerve.

When they reached the living room, Bonnie made a point of smacking soapy handprints on the back of Marceline’s shirt and on the sleeves too. “Hey, that’s not very nice,” Marceline said, indignant.

“Neither was hauling me in here,” Bonnie replied tartly. “You could have asked nicely. What am I looking at?”

Marceline threw out her arms, indicating… well… the whole room. “Isn’t it grand? Check out the television, and the surround sound and the _sofas_. I could die happy in one of them.” It was pretty impressive. One wall was a massive bookshelf and it was positively packed with DVD cases. Bookshelf it might be, but there was no reading material to be seen. The other wall was similarly filled with shelving, only crammed with CDs instead. In each corner was a cabinet, not large, but with a combined space nearly as impressive as the shelves. The clear glass fronts revealed more cases, but these appeared to be video games. It was a geek’s heaven. Marceline patted the sofa next to her. “Sit down, Bonnie. You’ll never want to leave.”

“I think that’s a pretty good reason not to sit, don’t you?” Bonnie asked her flatly. She sat anyway. And… _wow_ was Marceline ever right. It was like the chair had been made for her.

“We should watch a movie,” Marshall declared. He was sprawled in another sofa, feet on a little leather rest. He checked his watch. “It’s 8pm right? We can watch a movie. Let’s do that. It’d be a shame to have the telly right in front of us and not use it.”

“An absolute crime,” Marceline agreed.

“Well… sure I guess,” said Bee. “Why don’t you pick a movie then?”

Marceline bounded to her feet and beat Marshall to the shelves by a hair’s breadth. They scanned every last title. Or so it seemed anyway.

“Wow, Bee,” Marceline breathed. “These are grouped by genre and then alphabetised. You are way too organised.”

“I like to know where things are.”

“You’d get on well with Bonnie then. She likes to alphabetise things.” Marceline’s finger stopped on a case and she glanced at her brother questioningly. He canted his head briefly before nodding.

“We are assuming horror movies are right out of the question,” Marshall informed them sounding rather official. As Marceline slid the disc into the player, he stepped in front of the TV with hands clasped behind his back. “Additionally, my sister and I are vetoing romance movies because they suck. Thus, we have picked this classic action movie-”

“What about sci-fi movies?” Finn asked.

“None of that here,” Marceline said. “Maybe another time. This is a classic and it must be watched on this screen. End of story.”

“So what’s the movie then?” Rob enquired, sitting neatly on one chair. Far from where Marshall had been Bonnie noted.

Marceline held up the case. “Die Hard, starring Bruce Willis. The master of kick-arse action movies that make no logical sense.”

Nobody had any complaints. ‘Classic’ might be stretching the truth, but even Bonnie would admit (to herself only mind) that it was a decent flick. At least, the parts she’d seen. She had a habit of not seeing the ends of films. Something Marceline never let her forget.

Marshall snatched the remote from his sister before slumping into the chair he’d left previously. It displaced Bee from the arm and she ended up next to Robert. Finn was sprawled on the floor, Rain and Jake had appropriated one of the longer sofas and Marceline flopped down beside Bonnie, grinning.

“You reckon you’ll see the end this time?” she asked.

“Not likely.”

Marceline sighed, leaning back into the sofa. “One day, you _will_ sit through a whole movie.”

“I’ve seen most of this one before anyway.”

“That’s true,” she replied, perking up a little. “So sleep now and I’ll wake you when we’re nearly at the end. Yeah. Sound good?”

Bonnie just smiled. “Whatever. Sleep where?”

Marceline gestured at the couch. “You sleep on the couch at home and this one is heaps more comfortable. Marshall! You using that pillow?”

Her brother looked up, shook his head and tossed a spare pillow across the room. It nearly smacked Rob in the face, and Bonnie suspected it was meant to, but he ducked out of the way just in time. Catching it one handed, Marceline sat it on her lap.

“There you go. Pillow. Have a nap, dork.” She smiled when Bonnie removed the pillow. The sofa was comfortable enough that she didn’t need it, just leaned against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.

At least, it was enough until the television blared to life. The speakers alone would have made it hard to sleep, the noise was tremendous. She wondered what the neighbours thought of it. But that wasn’t the worst. Oh no. With a television that big (she would probably hazard a guess at seventy inches maybe) the light was blinding and seared her retinas even through her eyelids. She grimaced, scrunching her eyes shut as tight as they would go but it didn’t help.

The light flickered, dark and bright, never staying one thing long enough before jerking to something else and startling her awake again. With a resigned sigh, she reclaimed the pillow and put it back on Marceline’s lap. Then she promptly buried her face in Marceline’s stomach, blocking out most of the light.

“You alright, Bon?” Marceline asked softly. As softly as she could over the sound coming from the stereo anyway.

“It’s very bright,” she grumbled. “And loud.”

Marceline put one hand over her ear and the volume went down. Leaning forwards, she asked, “Better?” Her voice was muted, as though Bonnie was hearing it through wool. Thankfully, the television had also been reduced to a dull drone.

She nodded. “Thanks.” Her words sounded funny and seemed to vibrate more as she spoke them. It made her want to talk too loud, like she would after being at a concert. Marceline just patted her head in acknowledgement. Against all odds (and the movie was putting up one heck of a fight) Bonnie fell asleep. 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

What she assumed was many hours later, Bonnie was jerked awake. The television was a flat black screen once more and she was still on the sofa. Blinking her eyes, she glanced around the room. It seemed everyone else had fallen asleep where they sat as well. Another movement made her look over.

Marceline had twisted around on the chair, evidently trying not to wake Bonnie, but not succeeding. She now had her head on one arm rest and her ankles crossed on the other, one arm was around Bonnie to keep her from falling off the chair.

She winced when she realised Bonnie was awake. “Sorry,” she whispered. “It was getting uncomfortable to sleep like that. Go back to sleep.”

“You didn’t wake me for the end of the movie,” she accused. “Why not?”

Marceline shrugged. “You looked tired.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And you’re cute when you sleep. Relaxed. You don’t ever look properly relaxed when you’re awake.”

“That’s a terrible reason.” Bonnie fought back a yawn, failed and stuffed a fist over her mouth to hide it. “What time is it?”

“About five-thirty I think.”

Bonnie hummed and let her head drop back to Marceline’s shoulder. Her fingers curled into the fabric of Marceline’s shirt and she closed her eyes again. “Did Bee mind that we all crashed here?”

Marceline chuckled softly, the sound drumming in her chest. “She didn’t have much say actually. Bee was out not much after you were.”

“Mmm. I hope she isn’t put out when she wakes up.”

“Just go back to sleep, brainiac.”

“You go to sleep.” Such a terrible comeback, but her sleep addled brain couldn’t think of anything better. She opened one eye to look up at Marceline. The other woman seemed bewildered, the look in her eyes was definitely confused and… maybe a little bit amazed? “You look baffled,” Bonnie told her. Oh yes, her mind was coming up with all kinds of incredible things this morning. She probably sounded very intelligent.

Marceline blinked, something almost akin to anxiety replaced the confusion and she leaned back slightly. Bonnie’s grip on her shirt tightened. “Uh…” she said enlighteningly. “I guess I am a little.”

“About what?”

At first she thought Marceline wouldn’t answer. She looked away, staring at the ceiling. When she looked back, the apprehension had returned to her expression. “Well… you.”

Bonnie stifled another yawn. “I don’t understand.”

Marceline swallowed. “You… you could be anywhere, with anyone you wanted. You could date anyone you wanted. I’m probably not even exaggerating there… well maybe not Jake… or a straight woman. But you get my point.” She was babbling. “The point is you could have anything you wanted. So why on _earth_ are you here with me?”

She thought about that a minute. Anything she wanted was probably a bit of a stretch, but the meaning remained. Bonnie propped herself up on one elbow so she could look Marceline directly in the eye. “I could have anything I want,” she muttered. “That’s your hypothesis. Then I suppose the reason I’m here on a couch with you, is because I _want_ to be.”

Marceline’s brown eyes widened and she shook her head. “I don’t think you understood my question…” she began. Bonnie didn’t let her finish.

“Pretty sure I got it,” she replied. Her words might’ve been slurred a little from sleep, but she wasn’t stupid. “I don’t want to be here with anyone else.” She kissed Marceline’s cheek. “Do _you_ understand?”

Marceline’s face relaxed, eyes shining. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I get it.” She hesitated, fingers fidgeting slightly in the space between them. Bonnie couldn’t breathe; she wondered what Marceline was thinking. Something in her expression changed and, very slowly, like she thought it would break her, Marceline furled her hand around Bonnie’s cheek and pressed their foreheads together. “I get it.” A gentle thumb flickered across Bonnie’s cheek as Marceline inhaled deeply. Then, dragging that thumb to Bonnie’s chin and tilting, Marceline inclined her head, kissing her softly. So feather-light and tentative, so different to every other time. Marceline, who was usually confident and brazen now seemed wary, scared even.

Bonnie’s fingers clenched almost painfully in Marceline’s shirt, but the other woman remained resolute, keeping her distance. Then she pulled back slightly, a question in her eyes that Bonnie knew, deep down, she’d never say aloud. Never. It was all her fears, every last little worry that had ever made her brow crease with concern, every single one of the things that gave her niggling anxiety, all of that concern kept hidden behind her mask was there, written on her face. And this time, it was Marceline who needed an answer, only Bonnie could tell she was afraid of that answer just as much as she had to know. And she did have to know, because mysteries bugged her too.

And of course, with her breath catching in her throat again and blood-thunder pounding in her ears, Bonnie couldn’t verbalise her response. History really did repeat itself. Her hands contracted around Marceline’s waist and she, in turn, brought her lips to Marceline’s, hanging there, but not quite touching.

“I could have picked anyone, Marcy,” she whispered. “But I picked you.” Finally, Marceline exhaled and only then did Bonnie kiss her. Not gently, not hesitantly, but like Marceline was the only thing keeping her afloat in a flood. This time, Marceline held her close and smiled. When she pulled away this time, the worry was gone, no more questions were hidden on her face, this was the happy, childish smile Bonnie knew so well. And it made her heart skip to see it.

“You’re beautiful,” Marceline muttered. “And far too good for me. You need a guy, a handsome fellow with a doctorate or something. Maybe a lawyer.”

“That might be nice,” Bonnie agreed. “But I don’t really want nice. I’m kind of used to better than that.” She closed her eyes and rested her head back on Marceline’s shoulder. “What I’d really like though is another few hours’ sleep. Think I can have that?”

Marceline chuckled. “You can have anything you want.”

“That’s a bit much. The sleep will be fine, thank you.” 

“Then sleep is what you’ll get,” Marceline laughed, kissing Bonnie’s forehead. Bonnie sighed, perfectly happy in the knowledge that she could indeed have at least two more hours’ sleep. And it was already folding around her when it was rudely interrupted by a cough.

Marceline jack-knifed into a sitting position, but Bonnie (hazy from the brink of unconsciousness) barely reacted. Words were exchanged; she couldn’t tell who was talking. She was going to wrest more sleep from the jaws of encroaching dawn and nothing, _nothing_ was going to stop her. But that was before Marceline jabbed her in the ribs.

“Please help,” Marceline whined softly. “Please. I don’t know what to say.”

“You never know what to say,” Bonnie mumbled almost incoherently back at her.

She was prodded again, this time in a different rib. “Please? Please help me.”

Bonnie groaned and opened her eyes. “You said I could sleep,” she grumbled.

“That was before Rain… started calling me names. Help?”

 _Rain_. That penetrated her foggy brain and, while it wasn’t quite waking up, she was definitely not going to sleep. She propped herself up on her elbows and blinked through the dim light at her friend. Rain was tangled up in Jake’s coat, one hand trying absently to remove his arm from around her middle, the other scrubbing across her face blearily.

“Did I just see that?” she asked quietly. Her arm fell back to her lap and she gave up trying to move Jake. Instead she elbowed him in the shoulder.

“Oof,” he grunted, eyes snapping open. “What was that for?”

“Let me up,” Rain murmured back. Once his hold on her relaxed, she scrambled to the end of the couch and sat there, staring at them intently. “Seriously though. What just happened?” Her eyes flicked between the two of them, clearly unsure to which woman she was asking her question. They settled on Bonnie.

Fighting down a yawn, Bonnie asked, “I guess that depends. What do you think just happened?”

Rain hesitated. Then, with a little puzzled frown, she put forth, “Marceline kissed you.” Jake sat upright rather abruptly, eyes shooting open. Marceline looked panicked.

Bonnie just sighed. “Yeah, so? She does it all the time.”

“Eh?” Jake nearly screeched.

“Please be quiet,” Bonnie grumbled, blinking tiredly at him too. “It’s too early for that volume.”

“Um… Bonnie?” Marceline asked quietly. The panic was still there.

“Calm down. This was your idea,” Bonnie told her gently. She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and took a deep breath. Exhale.

“Please elaborate, Elle,” Rain finally said.

“We’re… dating,” Bonnie breathed.

“Eh?” Jake said again. At a lower pitch this time, thankfully.

Rain blinked. “Oh,” was all she had to say.

“You’re _what_ now?” Jake asked, volume increasing again. “But… but… but you don’t date, Elle.” He was babbling a little now, clearly very surprised.

Bonnie kept her eyes on Rain. Her friend’s expression stayed incredibly blank. Then she smiled. “Ok. I didn’t see that coming… But ok.” She rested a hand on Jake’s knee. “Calm down, Jake, please.”

“What?” Marceline asked, her eyes wide. “Just like that?”

Rain shrugged. “Sure, why not? Weirder things have happened.”

Jake lifted a finger, after a moment he let it fall. “Yeah… I don’t think they have.” He used his finger to rub his chin, thinking. “How… how long has this… have you been…Um… Dating?”

Marceline looked at Bonnie. “I haven’t been keeping track,” she said only a little sheepishly. “Should I have been?”

Bonnie grimaced. “I haven’t either. About two months… nearly… I think…?”

Thinking, Marceline rubbed behind one ear. “Mmm… I moved in at the start of September yeah? That sounds right. So… mid-October… to… now, early December… Yeah,” she concluded. “About two months.” She grinned and elbowed Bonnie in the shoulder. “I did maths.”

“Congratulations,” Bonnie said flatly. “You can count to four.”

Jake’s jaw very nearly hit the floor like a little cartoon character in complete shock. “But… that’s ages!” he exclaimed, once again hitting a noise level that was marginally uncomfortable. “You’ve been keeping it under wraps for that long? Why?”

“Oh please, Jake,” Rain snapped. “You know her parents. They would _freak out_ if they knew. There are _no_ grandkids in a scenario like this. _None_. Cynthia would go grey and die young.”

Jake visibly collected himself, realising that Rain was right. Marceline however, had a question. “So…” she began tentatively. “That’s it? They want biological grandkids?”

Rain slumped. “Well… you didn’t tell her?” she asked Bonnie.

She shrugged. “I tried to be specific, but the broad-strokes probably made more sense.”

“They’re not homophobes, Marceline,” Rain said, facing her as she spoke. “Definitely not, Alex has a number of advisors, colleagues and friends who are gay. But Cynthia at least is terribly aware of such things as _mortality_ and she’s always wanted to have things to pass onto future generations. Specifically the ones she’s related to.”

“Cynthia shoots for the stars,” Jake said with a little bit of arm waving. “She likes big things. Nothing is good if it isn’t on a grand scale. She wants the heavens on a necklace. And she wants, more than to have it herself, to pass that necklace onto her kids and grandkids and great-grandkids. You get the idea.”

“Alex is a bit more laid back about the whole thing,” Rain went on. “He’d probably be fine with… whatever you two are doing here. If you gave him a bit of space to think it through anyway. But Cynthia? Oh no. This is no good. Sure, she could pass that starry jewellery on to Elle and all, but then what? It rusts away somewhere with no one to appreciate it. Or worse: it leaves the family. Then all that hard work she put in to get amazing things from life ends up in someone _else’s_ grubby paws.” Her hands flopped back into her lap after trying to generate an image of something on a massive scale. “Do you see? Everything that Cynthia has, _must_ stay in the family. She doesn’t want someone she’s never met getting something that they didn’t even work for. That’s a disgrace.”

“She’d rather see every asset she has dissolved than in the hands of a…” Bonnie paused. “What did she call that business guy who came around in senior year asking for donations?”

Rain frowned. “That was a long time ago.”

“No good, two-bit conman,” Jake supplied suddenly.

“Yeah.” Bonnie fixed Marceline with an intense stare. “She likes to keep the valuable things close to her chest.”

Marceline hunched her shoulders. “What does she have that’s so valuable she would want to keep it in the family _only_?”

Jake arched one eyebrow, an ironic smile canted across his face. “She doesn’t know that either? What do you two even talk about?”

“What don’t I know?” The panicked look was back in Marceline’s eyes.

Bonnie sighed. “My parents started the Candy Kingdom company. They don’t want it to leave the family. Mum especially is rather protective of her interests.”

Now Marceline’s jaw dropped, her gaze scanning Bonnie from head to toe and then sweeping back to her eyes. “No way.” She turned her stunned face to Rain and Jake. “Seriously?” Rain only nodded. “ _Why_ did no one tell me your parents own the _single largest_ confectionary company in… in the southern hemisphere? What even, Bon?”

Bonnie presented a hand, palm up, and gestured at Marceline’s incredulous face. “This right here. See this reaction you’re currently having? _That’s_ why I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh man,” Marceline breathed. The utter shock on her face evaporated, leaving behind a cheeky, and not a little bit conniving, smile. She leaned closer to Bonnie and whispered, “Do I get free samples?” Which of course made Bonnie go bright red.

“Shut up. No.”

“Aw,” Marceline whined at her.

“So what then?” asked Rain. “You can come right out and tell us, sure. But will you tell your parents, Elle?”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Yes, probably. No sense putting off the inevitable really is there? They’re going to have heart attacks no matter when I tell them. At least if I do it sooner rather than later I’ll have a decent reason not to date the guys they try to set me up with.” She grimaced.

“They do that?” Jake asked. “Still? Seriously, your parents just like to meddle, don’t they?”

“They like to be in control,” Bonnie amended.

“Runs in the family,” Marceline said jokingly.

“Wait,” Jake muttered, frowning. “If you’ve been going out for two months… that means you were together at the party your mother throws in November that we weren’t invited to.”

“Put away your wounded pride, Jake,” Bonnie said flatly. “That was my fault. I forgot to check the invite list because I wasn’t on speaking terms with my mother. She probably left you off deliberately. But yes, to the other thing.”

“Oh wow,” Rain exhaled. “How’d they like that?”

Marceline shrugged. “They were a lot less dramatic in person than Bonnie kept telling me. Nice though. Considering I usually make such a terrible first impression, I don’t think they hate me.”

“Yet,” said Rain and Bonnie together.

Jake leapt to his feet. “Holy cake, Elle’s not _single_ anymore!” he cried. “That’s so awesome!”

“Quiet, Jake,” Rain reminded him, but it was too late. Bee and Rob were already groggily sitting up. Marshall, grumbling about the noise opened one eye to fix Jake with a lazy glare. It was only then that Bonnie realised Finn was no longer sprawled on the floor.

“What’s the racket?” Marshall grouched.

“For once, I agree with Marshall,” Robert said, straightening his collar. He was blushing profusely and moving away from Bee who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. “It must be incredible to require shouting so early.”

Bee, staggered upright and, ignoring the other conversation, said, “I’m going to start cooking breakfast. We have pancakes.” Her face was pink as she hurried from the room. Frowning, but obviously enjoying the prospect of food, Rob followed.

Marshall scrubbed at his eyes. “So what was with that hullabaloo?” he asked, glare once more on Jake. Neither Rain nor Jake offered Marshall a reply; they merely swivelled around to look at Bonnie. 

Then Jake, grinning like a fool turned back to Marshall. “Elle’s not single anymore,” he explained happily. “And you don’t know how long we’ve been-oof!” He was cut off when Rain elbowed him in the guts again.

Marshall leaned back into the sofa looking bored. “Oh yeah… that. Right. I guess you guys are just telling everyone now then?”

“You _knew_?” Rain screeched. Screeching was unusual for her, she was usually so reserved. But her face was pretty much horrified. Her expression was slightly wounded as she looked over at Bonnie. “But…”

Bonnie raised her hands in supplication. “I know, I’m sorry. I swear I originally wanted to tell you first and all but… he was in the right place at the right time… I guess.” She smiled, trying to take the edge off, but Rain still looked hurt.

“I’m your best friend, Elle,” Rain muttered.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Marceline put in. “Robert wasn’t the first to find out either. And he’s her brother.” She lifted one eyebrow as if daring Rain to tell her it didn’t matter. But Rain deflated.

“That’s true.”

“Come on,” Jake said, heaving himself off the chair and hauling Rain to her feet. “Bee said there’s pancakes.”

“I like pancakes,” Marshall mused, hurrying after them.

Bonnie’s stomach made an unpleasant complaint as the scent of cooking pancake mixture wafted into the living room. “Breakfast sounds good,” she admitted, levering herself to her feet. “Come on. I should tell Rob.”

Marceline frowned, a distant look to her eyes as Bonnie wandered off. Then she bounded to her feet and grabbed Bonnie’s elbow just as they stepped into the kitchen. The smile on her face was eager anticipation and childish joy. The kind of pure wonder seen on a six year old’s face when he sees presents under the Christmas tree.

“Oh, Bonnie,” Marceline very nearly gushed. Only Marceline never gushes anything. “ _Please_ let me tell Bub. Pretty please?” She was practically bouncing with excitement. “Please, please, _please_?”

Rob flipped a pancake expertly. Bee looked a little upset that he’d commandeered her kitchen, but they both turned when they heard Marceline’s question. “Tell me what, Elle?” Rob asked, setting the pan down.

Marceline’s eyes were shining, smile as broad and blinding as ever and Bonnie didn’t really have the heart to tell her ‘no’. She sighed. “Fine, you tell him.”

“Yes!” Marceline let her go and sidled up to Robert, staring at him in a worrying way. It sort of minded Bonnie of the way a hyena smiles at its prey. Scary. She stopped next to him, but didn’t speak for a moment; every eye in the kitchen was on her. Some with teeny knowing smiles and some with worried frowns. Bonnie was wearing the latter.

“Marceline?” Rob asked slowly, clearly uncomfortable by her creepy silence.

If anything, Marceline’s smile widened. Oh yes, that was terrifying. Finally she said, “I’m dating your sister.” And Robert blinked as Marceline fought to keep from laughing. “You know,” she added around her mirth, directing her words at Bonnie. “Those are words I never thought I’d say. But _god_ was it fun.”

“You… what now?” Rob finally asked, head to one side as though not sure he’d heard right. “Dating?”

Bonnie exhaled heavily. “Yes. Dating.”

He lifted a finger and pointed to one of them, then the other, a frown beginning to crease his forehead. “Uh… you two…? Um… really?”

Now Bonnie could feel a smile threatening. It was sort of funny, his face that is. “Yes, Robert,” she said, sitting. “We’re dating. Got that? It’s pretty simple.”

“Who’s dating?” Finn asked, stepping through the archway. His hair was wet and mussed; he’d clearly just had a shower.

Rob’s finger indicated first Bonnie before slowly tracking over to Marceline, who was still grinning like a loon. “They are. I don’t understand… you’re so… _different_.” He shook himself. “Oh well. Your choice I guess. You have to tell mum and dad. Let me know when you decide to break it to them so I can be as far from that as possible.” He shook his head, blinking, and turned back to the pancakes.

Marceline levelled a finger at Rob’s back. “Now, see. I thought for _sure_ he’d have something a little more critical to say about it,” she told Bonnie softly. “Figured he’d be disapproving and all. Princess Bonnibel dating Marceline the no-hoper and all that.” She smiled though and shot a glance at Rob, still expecting a reaction from him.

Finn stopped by Bonnie’s chair and looked down at her. “You’re… together?” he asked softly.

“Yeah…” Bonnie murmured, eyes flicking up to his face and then across to Marceline. He looked… sad.

He nodded. “Well… good then.” The look he gave Marceline spoke so many volumes it was practically a library. It made Marceline’s smile flicker uncertainly and the frown that went with his look, while more to the point, was equally weighty. “So long as you’re happy.” With that, he slouched into a seat beside his brother and attacked his pancakes.

Marceline leaned over so she could mutter into Bonnie’s ear. “He at least, isn’t a fan.”

“You think?”

With a small smile, Marceline quipped, “Not often, but when I do I can be pretty observant.” And it got a tight smile in return so not all was wasted.

In truth, Bonnie felt a weight lift from her shoulders. So… Finn might not approve of this particular decision, but all her friends knew now. No more secrets from them. It felt good. Liberating. Of course, it brought with it a host of worries, not the least of which was informing her parents. And not the greatest of which was what would happen if Lucy found out first. If that happened, everyone she’d ever known would have the knowledge before she could even blink.

Happily, no more was said on it. Breakfast was consumed lightly; everyone (sans Finn) accepted the news graciously and moved on. Of course there would be inescapable conversations with Rain on the topic for the foreseeable future, but she didn’t mind that. It was nice that they were so ok with it.

When they parted ways not long later, it was with smiles and promises to get together again soon. Nothing more. And Bonnie was suddenly struck with how amazing her friends were.

“You got work today, Bon?” Marceline asked as they drove home.

“Yup. Why? Did you have plans?”

Marceline shrugged, looking out the window. “No… just… you said we’d never been on an actual date. And…”

“Well,” Bonnie said slowly. “You did say that movies on the couch counts as a date. So I suppose we have. Just not a cliché type one.”

She smiled wryly. “You like clichés?”

“I thought _you’d_ at least want to prove your brother wrong. About you not having the capacity to do it right.”

Marceline blinked. “Cliché date?”

“Yeah. He did say you suck at relationships and romance and all that. So far, I’m agreeing with him.”

If Marceline had been a cat, her tail would have been bristling. “Are you offering me a challenge, Bubblegum? Because I can totally do that. I can do anything you know?”

She chuckled. “No. Just making an observation.”

“Well. Fine. You go off and do your work thing. And put your socks on when you get home. I can totally knock them off.”

“Amaze me.”


	20. It’s So Cliché

Bonnie squinted through her glasses at the little printed chart on the table. It didn’t really make any sense. It was… _too_ clean, too perfect. There was not a single anomaly on the sheet and that bothered her. In the corner, the centrifuge whirred away and then clicked softly as it stopped.

Rubbing her temples, anxious that the results were too clean, Bonnie removed the next tube from the centrifuge and inserted it to the slot of the next machine. If this test returned as perfectly normal as the last four she’d… she’d… probably need a nap. It just wasn’t natural.

As the contraption fired up, making a little clunk as the sample was accepted; Bonnie sat back down at the table to stare at the chart. Nothing was above the recommended level. Nothing. Every single little stat was perfect. 

It was as though nothing had ever gone wrong in Simon’s life. Not ever. He ate well, exercised plenty and maintained an all-round good lifestyle. 

With a grunt of frustration, she let her head fall to the bench top. No wonder Hunter had been so tentative to let her do this. There was pretty much no chance she’d ever find anything abnormal. Briefly, Bonnie wondered if it was the same for all magical beings and if Marceline would let her take a blood sample to cross check. Then she discarded the thought; that would never happen.

On a whim, she sucked some of the blood into a pipette and placed it under a microscope. The chance that the blood would be visually different was incredibly small. But she knew it was terrible work ethic to leave any avenue of investigation unexplored. 

Shockingly, the blood _did_ look different, although it took her a very long moment to work out why. And when it finally hit her, she leapt to her feet and rummaged in the cupboard until she found the molecular microscope. Sliding the blood sample underneath the microscope, she took a deep breath and peered down the lens.

That, that right there, was definitely not normal. And wouldn’t show up in any test designed for humans. She smiled.

Little orange spheroids were clinging to the leucocyte cells. Several of them all clumped together, their interiors _spinning_ of all things and it appeared the nucleus was glowing. How completely unusual.

Bonnie sat for a very long time watching the spinning, luminescent cells wondering what the heck they were. They didn’t appear to be doing a great deal. Just existing. Her fingers itched, wanting to find a way of extracting them for closer study. Two of the white blood cells drifted closer to each other and, making her gasp, the glowing cells seemed to communicate, firing off a little lance of light from one to the other. Like the reactions in brain cells. How incredible.

But then there were questions she needed to answer: what are they? What are they doing there? What is their purpose? How important are they? And, most importantly, do they contribute to Simon’s degrading mental capabilities?

It was fascinating, utterly engrossing. So she sat there and watched them for at least another hour. Was it possible… perhaps, that these shining cells were behind Simon’s flawless blood results? Are they the reason for his incredible health? Long life? 

The scope of any implications behind the existence of these cells slugged her hard. If they were responsible for all of those things, think of the applications they could have for humanity. Cures for every last disease to ever plague mankind could be locked away in the secret vaults of this tiny little thing.

She sat back in her chair and had to calm her breathing. Closing her eyes, she counted pi out to a hundred decimal places to still her racing thoughts. It was… impossible.

“How has this gone unnoticed for some many thousands of years,” she pondered aloud, eyes still clenched shut. “What… don’t magicals have check-ups?”

“Not usually,” said an amused voice by the door.

Her eyes snapped open to find Marceline leaning against the door frame.

“We tend not to need it,” Marceline went on. “We’re all in fabulously good health. I dunno about other species, but I’m pretty sure I told you how much we’d _suck_ as apex predators if we got tummy bugs all the time.” She grinned and stepped into the room, keeping her eyes carefully averted from all the papers lying around. She didn’t even look up as the blood test concluded with a soft _pnnnng-clk_ sound.

“You did mention something along those lines,” Bonnie replied slowly, absently turning the focus on the microscope. She added that to her list of things to factor into further experiments.

Marceline nodded, keeping her eyes glued to Bonnie’s face. “You ready to go?”

Bonnie glanced at her watch. Three thirty. What had happened to the day? She sighed, standing. “Just give me a few moments to tidy up.”

Bobbing her head, Marceline left the room. Bonnie really wished she could tell someone about what she’d found, wished she could ask Marceline what it might mean. But she’d promised not to disclose details, not to get anyone’s hopes up. 

Once all the tubes had been safely filed in cold storage and all her notes and other miscellaneous papers had been neatly stacked in one drawer, she flicked the lights off and exited. She looked left, but Marceline was waiting further down the corridor in the other direction. Frowning, she hustled over.

“This way?” she asked, confused.

“Dad has some friends in town,” Marceline explained. “They were coming through the lobby before and I figured it was better safe than sorry.” She motioned towards a door Bonnie hadn’t seen. “Sneak escape.” Marceline smiled.

Through the door was a lot mostly filled with cars and really big boxes. Bonnie didn’t know what was in those boxes and she didn’t want to find out. “So where are we going then?” she asked her friend.

Marceline’s smile took on a cheeky glint. “Can’t tell you. Have to wait and see.” She glanced over at Bonnie, eyes shining with mischief and Bonnie was all of a sudden very apprehensive about the whole thing.

“Should I be worried?”

“Nah. I just think it’s a pretty good surprise.”

Bonnie kept frowning at her though. She wasn’t such a big fan of surprises. “How are we going to get there then? I’m not letting you drive.”

Marceline laughed. “Which is perfectly fine because it’s not far from here. We are going to walk. Then walk back to the car later. Trust me.”

“Mmhmm… trust you.”

It was pretty nice to walk through town actually. All the shop owners were setting up Christmas decorations and some of the council workers were stringing lights from the street posts. A tree was erected in the centre of the city every year and decked out in all kinds of festive things, but they didn’t see it as they wandered. It would be really quite something to see at night though, Bonnie suspected.

Marceline nudged her arm as they rounded the corner and stood on the pavement in front of the art gallery. She looked up and her eyes widened. The sign read ‘Art is Science’ and underneath were a list of names that Bonnie couldn’t read from where she was standing. She looked over at Marceline and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Trust me.”

“But-”

“Bon,” Marceline interrupted. “Just trust me.”

Grumbling, she followed Marceline up the stone steps and into the air conditioned gallery. Whereupon she stopped dead. Marceline only smiled at her.

“Oh…” she muttered. It was an exhibition, definitely, but she had no idea what to call it. She wandered vacantly past the sign in desk and peered up at a ten foot painting of brain cells from under a microscope. The detail was incredible, and to anyone who didn’t really know what they were looking at, that’s all it would be. But to Bonnie, it was more than that. 

Marceline hurried back to her after signing them in at the desk, watching, highly amused as an almost slack-jawed Bonnie moved between artworks. That was a 3D model made out of poly-pipe and pipe cleaners representing the nervous system. And beside it was one made similarly to describe veins. And one for skeletons and… oh wow, that one next to it shows with neon wire how neurodegenerative diseases impact the body.

On the wall behind them was a print of a tumorous tissue sample. She almost pressed her nose to the glass covering it and might have too if Marceline hadn’t grabbed her from behind and made her step back. A gurgling noise in the next room made her stick her head in and stare at a strange contraption that seemed designed entirely to show the process of osmosis. Only it also moved various coloured balls when the water levels changed. She followed the little track along, keeping her eye on the balls until she realised that it was in fact two things in the same artwork. Showing how clotting forms. Very clever.

For almost an hour she stared, fascinated at the artworks. Many of which were relatively simple in their execution. The kind of things that might be used to explain basic principles to primary school children. And some of them were vastly more complex. There were many interactive displays too, one of which observed the way the brain fires and displays the results on a television screen. Naturally, as soon as Bonnie had her results, she shoved Marceline into the booth and compared the two. Her brain was incredibly active, unnaturally so. And it made Bonnie frown when she thought about how little Marceline ever displayed her incredible capacity for thought.

She probably shouldn’t have been surprised when a room filled with heat detecting equipment designed to show footprints as a person moved across the floor didn’t pick Marceline up at all. At first the security guard in the room thought something was broken. The vampire hurriedly left when she realised why it wasn’t working. Lots of things didn’t work on Marceline. Curious.

Marceline caught her elbow on the way out. “Come on. Stop geeking out here and let me show you the best bit.” 

She led Bonnie up two flights of stairs, refusing to stop no matter how much Bonnie protested ‘but that artwork is gorgeous, just let me look at it for one minute’. In the end, Bonnie was glad they hadn’t stopped. The top floor was dedicated to a collection of works by just one man. And she was pretty sure none of them had ever been in the same place all at the same time. Not on display like this at least.

“Is this…?” Bonnie breathed, stepping into one room.

Marceline shrugged. “I can’t say his name. Santiago something. He was a neuroscientist or whatever. I figured it was right up your alley.”

“Santiago Ramón y Cajal,” Bonnie said. She moved slowly, peering intently at the first artwork. “He studied brain cells, yes. And drew pictures of them. Goodness these are impressive.” 

Marceline snatched Bonnie’s hand away just as she was about to touch the glass. “Look, Bon,” she said smilingly. “Don’t touch.”

“These are incredible, Marcy,” she said softly a few minutes later, still staring at the artwork. “So much detail… How did you even know this was here?”

Marceline shrugged self-consciously. “Google.” Bonnie didn’t even glare at her.

A security guard entered the room. “Sorry ladies, the gallery closes in five. Better hurry.”

“Come on, Bonnie,” Marceline said softly, dragging her away. “We have to go.”

“If I hide in the toilet can I stay overnight?” she asked, almost serious. It was with reluctance that she followed Marceline back down the stairs and out the door. 

Night had nearly fallen outside, late afternoon light blinding them as they stepped back into the early summer heat. Bonnie blinked, staring at the pavement while her pupils contracted to deal with the overwhelming light. Little Christmas lights were already sparking to life along shop fronts and the streets filled up slowly as people got off work.

“So what now?” she asked Marceline as they set off back the way they came.

“I dunno about you,” the other woman grumbled. “But I’m hungry. Dinner and then home sound good?”

“This is your party.”

“Good then. Let’s go.” Marceline turned down a different street and they wound between buildings until they popped out by the city square. The Christmas tree towered in all its eighty foot glory high above them. The golden star at its peak glowing brightly, yellow light reflecting off baubles and tinsel, casting the whole area in warmth. Marceline led her across the square and to a little restaurant, Italian by the look. Very stereotypical in its red and white checked cloth covered tables and iron wrought fancy work.

Bonnie raised an eyebrow as Marceline held the door for her, a silver bell above the entrance chiming softly. “Seriously, Marceline?” she asked.

“I like spaghetti,” she replied unashamedly. Her grin broadened. “A bottle of red, a bottle of white, whatever kind of mood you’re in tonight,” she sang.

“I like that song,” Bonnie replied, picking a table by the window and smiling. “Table near the street?”

Marceline laughed. “Good call. So you do pay attention when I play music for you.”

“Sometimes.”

The waiter, a young fellow with a veritable wall of white teeth and floppy blonde hair, bustled over to them with a notebook. “Hello ladies,” he said politely. “What can I get you?”

Marceline swung her eyes back to Bonnie. “What then?”

She shrugged. “Spaghetti sounds good.”

“Two of them, thanks,” Marceline told the waiter. She met his blinding hospitality smile with that rivals-the-sun one of hers. It was like a smile-fight. Naturally, Marceline won and the waiter headed back to the kitchen.

Marceline’s eyes glittered as she stared at Bonnie across the table top. It was that look that made her throat catch and her breathing practically stop; the look that made her shiver. And Marceline knew exactly how it affected her and she loved it. Her lips quirked up in a smile.

“I’m surprised at you, Marceline,” Bonnie said quietly. The other woman didn’t speak, but the raised eyebrow was the only question she needed. “It’s not pizza and a movie for dinner. What goes?”

Marceline tapped her finger on the table. “I’m not that lame, Bonnie.” Her smile widened. “Honestly.”

The waiter returned with their plates and two glasses of water. His gaze flicked between them a few times. Bonnie ignored him, but Marceline flashed that striking grin his way and his hospitality smile slipped slightly, showing something else. Then Marceline turned back to face Bonnie, cheeky, crooked half-smile reappearing and the waiter left.

“Besides,” Marceline went on, twirling her fork in the noodles. “I did promise a date. And not an ‘on the couch with junk food’ one. So… Cliché.”

Bonnie nodded, eating slowly. “This certainly qualifies.” Marceline chuckled, but let the conversation die. Bonnie didn’t mind, it was nice to sit in silence sometimes. Not that it was complete silence, sounds filtered in from outside; traffic and the low buzz of conversation.

Marceline spent most of the meal with her eyes fixed on Bonnie, just staring. It was a little uncomfortable, but she ignored it, opting instead to watch out the window, pretending she didn’t notice. The waiter came back over when they finished and asked if they’d like dessert. Once more, Marceline looked over at Bonnie to find out. She had to admit it was nice to be asked her opinion, but honestly, all she wanted was to go home and bum around in her pyjamas for a few hours before going to bed. And Marceline could tell just from the look on her face.

“No thanks, we’re going now,” Marceline informed the waiter happily. Standing, she threw one last smile at the waiter and slapped some cash on the table before opening the door for Bonnie and following her out. “Home now then?”

“Sounds good.”

The grin on Marceline’s face dialled up quite a few thousand notches at that. Bonnie could feel the anxiety tighten in her chest. It was a _supremely_ worrying smile. 

Now that it didn’t have to compete with the setting sun, the Christmas tree was blazing cheerily in the square as they walked back through. Tinsel glittering softly and fairy lights flashing in the deep green pine needles. It was a short walk back to the car and Marceline stopped only once to get ice-cream. 

When they got home Marceline remained very quiet, her smile had faded only a little, but she didn’t say a word. Very unusual. Bonnie was starting to think there was something up. She frowned.

“I’m going to have a shower,” she informed her roommate slowly. Marceline nodded and shut the door to her room. Very, very odd.

She kept the shower short, deciding it might be best to just ask Marceline if she was ok. Not that Bonnie really expected an answer. Still, she knocked softly on Marceline’s door a few times and waited.

“Come in.” Marceline’s voice sounded strained and Bonnie was suddenly hesitant to even peek in. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door inwards and stood in the entrance, watching. Marceline was sitting on her bed, fighting with a string on her guitar that didn’t seem like it really wanted to be attached. With a low curse, Marceline tossed the string on the floor and grabbed another one from the little box between her feet. This one slipped into place so much easier than its predecessor and Marceline made a happy sound as she tuned it.

“You alright?” Bonnie asked her quietly, perching carefully on Marceline’s desk chair.

“Yup. Why?”

Bonnie shrugged. “You just… you’re very quiet.”

“I remembered that I broke a string yesterday,” she said, equally soft. “And I meant to replace it earlier. Just grumpy at myself. Better now.” And she smiled to prove it, patting the bed beside her.

“Alright then,” Bonnie replied, flopping across onto the bed. Her hands fidgeted, Bonnie knew she should say something, but she didn’t know how to get the words out. She sighed. “I had a good day, Marcy,” she eventually muttered.

“Yeah? Just enough cliché for you, huh?” Marceline shot back with a smirk.

Bonnibel laughed. “Yes there was plenty of cliché. Thank you.”

Marceline nodded. “Cool. Well, you had to be pretty thick to think I was gonna leave it at that. Anyone can take you to the art gallery and buy you spaghetti. That’s pathetic.” She stuck her tongue out at Bonnie’s shocked look.

“What…?”

“Oh don’t worry. You can stay in your pyjamas, we’re not going anywhere.”

Those words made Bonnie’s throat go dry in two seconds flat and her heart skip a beat. Marceline chuckled at how wide her eyes were. “Oh don’t get all snooty on me, princess,” she chortled. “I promise you can relax.”

Yeah, like that was going to alleviate her anxiety one bit. But then Marceline pulled her bass onto her lap and Bonnie figured it really was ok. Biting her lip, she wondered what would have happened if Marceline had had something else in mind…

“You ready, Bon? I told you I’d knock your socks off, but you aren’t wearing any.”

“It’s too hot for socks, Marceline,” she replied flatly.

“Fair enough.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, eyes closing. Then Marceline began to sing.

“ _You know I’d fall apart without you._  
 _I don’t know how you do what you do._  
 _‘Cause everything that don’t make sense about me,_  
 _Makes sense when I’m with you._  
 _Like everything that’s green, girl, I need you,_  
 _But it’s more than one and one makes two._  
 _Put aside the math and the logic of it,_  
 _You gotta know you’re wanted too._ ”

Bonnie slithered back across the bed to lean against the wall, rapt. Marceline though remained where she was, eyes still closed. Her hand shook on the strings and one note came out strangely, but was quickly replaced by a stronger, more harmonious sound.

“ _Cause I wanna wrap you up,_  
 _Wanna kiss your lips,_  
 _I wanna make you feel wanted._  
 _And I wanna call you mine,_  
 _Wanna hold your hand forever,_  
 _And never let you forget it._  
 _Yeah I, I wanna make you feel wanted._ ”

Now Marceline opened her eyes, her voice hitching slightly and she blinked, turning to find Bonnie. As best she could while playing her bass, she rearranged herself on the bed so she could stare Bonnie in the eyes and it seemed to calm her somewhat. 

“ _Anyone can tell you you’re pretty,_  
 _And you get that all the time, I know you do._  
 _But your beauty’s deeper than the make-up,_  
 _And I wanna show you what I see tonight._  
 _When I wrap you up,_  
 _When I kiss your lips,_  
 _I wanna make you feel wanted._  
 _And I wanna call you mine,_  
 _Wanna hold your hand forever,_  
 _And never let you forget it._  
 _Cause, baby, I, I wanna make you feel wanted_.”

Her voice shook slightly, eyes half lidded like keeping them open was too hard. But the words… they made Bonnie shiver. They made her heart pound and the sound of Marceline’s voice as it trembled slightly made her mind race so fast she wasn’t even sure what she was thinking. Her throat was still dry.

“ _As good as you make me feel,_  
 _I wanna make you feel better._  
 _Better than your fairy tales,_  
 _Better than your best dreams._  
 _You’re more than everything I need._  
 _You’re all I ever wanted._  
 _All I ever wanted._  
 _And I just wanna wrap you up,_  
 _Wanna kiss your lips._  
 _I wanna make you feel wanted._  
 _And I wanna call you mine,_  
 _Wanna hold your hand forever,_  
 _And never let you forget it._  
 _Yeah, I wanna make you feel wanted._  
 _Baby, I wanna make you feel wanted._  
 _You’ll always be wanted._ ”

Marceline’s fingers quivered like the last note as it faded away, her eyes open again now. Bonnie couldn’t breathe; all she could do was sit there, staring at Marceline like an idiot. What the hell did she even say to that?

Hesitantly, clearly uncertain and more than a little worried, Marceline smiled slightly. It was barely more than a twitch at the corners of her mouth and Bonnie almost missed it. Carefully, not taking her eyes off Bonnie, Marceline leaned her bass against the wall by the bed. Then she put her hands in her lap and sat there.

For a long moment that’s all they did; sit and watch each other. Then Marceline opened her mouth. Only nothing came out because Bonnie threw her arms around Marceline’s neck and hugged for all she was worth.

“Did you write that?” she asked in a voice that shook more than she’d like to admit.

Slowly, Marceline’s arms wrapped around her too. “Mm… yes,” Marceline whispered back.

“It was lovely.”

Tension oozed out of Marceline and she slumped forwards, burying her face in Bonnie’s hair. She exhaled heavily. “Cliché?”

Bonnie laughed at her. “Incredibly. But I loved it just the same.” Her chest felt all tight and weird, heart still going way too fast. Yet she would have been happy to sit like that for the rest of the night. “You express yourself better with lyrics than with words you know.”

Marceline nodded. “I know. That’s why I wrote the song. Figured I could say things to you easier that way.”

Bonnie sucked in a breath feeling something tumble around near her stomach. “You wrote that… for me?”

Laughing softly, Marceline pulled back, brushing hair from Bonnie’s face. “Duh. Who else would I write a song like that for?”

Yup, this time Bonnie was one hundred percent certain her heart stopped beating. Her fingers turned to claws on the sleeves of Marceline’s shirt, completely unable to think of anything to say. All she could do was stare at Marceline’s eyes. So big and brown and perfectly sincere. That look from before was back; iridescent, magnificent, Bonnie had the feeling that she was peering into eternity and it made her shiver. It made her feel small; like she was being handed something incredible only she had no idea what to do with it. It was terrible and fantastic, incomprehensible and all encompassing. Her inability to breathe or think could be entirely attributed to that look in Marceline’s eyes. She was lost. Utterly lost in a sea of brown stars.

Slowly, so incredibly slowly, Marceline leaned forward, her eyes never leaving Bonnie’s. And that was all she needed. Exhaling, her hands pulled Marceline towards her, kissed her, tasting the sugary sweetness of vanilla ice-cream. Maybe it had been cliché, but with Marceline’s hands on her waist, Bonnibel didn’t even care. Could not have cared less.


	21. Just What A Jerk You Are

It was pouring. Bonnie sighed, sitting up and rubbing bleary eyes. Rain pounded on the windows, rattled the shutters on the floor below her, wind howled, screamed like outraged banshees. What an excellent day to stay inside.

Groaning, not too pleased with the idea of going out today, she shuffled to the kitchen. A note was sitting on the table, pinned under a book. Even if her name wasn’t there, the tight scribble that skittered across the page could only belong to Marceline.

 _Bon_ , it read. _Have to go out today, got to see a friend. Could be gone all day, but if you’re still at work around three let me know and I’ll meet you there _.__

__She sighed again, pressing the note back under the book and staring sadly out the window. What an awful day. For the briefest of moments, as she gazed into their nearly empty pantry, Bonnie considered getting breakfast on the way to work. Then lightning exploded behind her, reflecting off the metal faucet and the blank spaces of the fridge door. It was followed nearly instantaneously by a rumble of thunder that she felt from her feet to her chest even on the fifth floor._ _

__She blinked. _Nope, not getting food in that_ , she thought. _No way_._ _

__However, feeling particularly lazy still, Bonnie couldn’t quite bring herself to eat the last of the cereal. She had toast instead. The most boring and simple kind of breakfast she could imagine. Just bread and honey._ _

__She had to turn the light on in her study before she located her folder and bag, stubbing her toe on the bottom of her chair in the process. Then, packed, dressed and as presentable as she could manage when all she wanted to do was go back to sleep, she headed for the door. She paused only briefly to tuck an apple in her bag, just in case._ _

__Bonnie pulled the door open and stopped in her tracks. With one hand in his pocket and the other raised to knock on her door, stood a tallish man with a cap of unkempt, platinum hair. Dressed all in black from his tattered shirt to his skinny jeans to his combat boots, he looked a lot like the kind of guy Bonnie would avoid. His icy blue eyes darted to the paper in his hand and then back to Bonnie._ _

__“Is this where Marceline lives?” he asked. It was the kind of tone that tried very hard to be civil and tactful, but he sounded obnoxious to her. He had a tight crease around his mouth like he usually wore a smirk and that was the only expression his features felt comfortable with and there was a glint in his eyes that put her teeth on edge. Almost – _almost_ – he came across as self-entitled. She didn’t like him._ _

__“Depends who you are, I suppose,” Bonnie replied flatly. She waved a hand at him, motioning that he should step back. “And I also suppose it depends which ‘Marceline’ you’re after. There’s more than one.”_ _

__As she’d suspected, a smirk quirked his mouth up, whether in amusement or some other emotion she couldn’t be sure. What Bonnie was now pretty much positive of though, was that this guy was a douche. Definitely self-entitled. He did step back however, far enough for her to pull the door closed and lock it behind her._ _

__“If you’re the Marceline who lives here,” he went on, standing altogether too close for comfort. “Then you’re not the one I want to see. I might like to though… later.” His smirk widened. Bonnie’s chest tightened._ _

___Uh-uh_. She had to get out of this right now. “And who are you anyway?” she asked, ducking past him and heading for the stairs. She had no desire to be stuck in an elevator with him for any length of time._ _

__“Ash,” he said still smiling in a way Bonnie had already decided creeped her out. “Ash Kelly. And it’s Marceline Abadeer in particular that I’m after. Do you know her? I’m her boyfriend.”_ _

__Bonnie skipped a step at that, nearly tripping down the stairs. _Ex-boyfriend,_ she mentally corrected him. “I… do know her,” she eventually said. Part of her wanted to lie, deny and knowledge of Marceline, but recalling the fact that he was a wizard… Bonnie had no idea what kind of abilities he had. Maybe he could tell if she lied to him._ _

__“Cool. Where can I find her?”_ _

__She glanced briefly over her shoulder. “How should I know? I’m not her nursemaid.”_ _

__He lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you her roommate?”_ _

__“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I keep tabs on her. She does what she likes.” And, Bonnie realised, she didn’t actually know where Marceline spent her time. She supposed it didn’t matter, but her brain filed it away for later analysis anyway._ _

__“Do you know when she’ll be back?”_ _

__“Haven’t got a clue.”_ _

__“You’re not much use are you?”_ _

__Bonnie’s feet hit the lobby and she spun on him, still exiting the stairwell. “Look. I know enough about her to know she isn’t going to trash my apartment or invite over others who might. I know she has a brother, a father and a cousin and that’s it. I know she told me that she dumped you years ago and she rather heatedly has referred to you as her ‘creepy stalker’ on more than one occasion. But that’s all I know,” and the lie rolled so easily off her tongue it scared her. “I don’t need to know any more about her, so I don’t ask. If you want to know where she is, go ask her brother. I’m sure he has her phone number and could call her if you were that desperate to be glared at.” Bonnie whipped away and stormed towards the exit._ _

__“Alright then, geez,” he grumbled behind her. “Talk about hostile.” Then something seemed to click and his heavy boots crashed across the tiles after her. “Hey, anger management!”_ _

__She stopped. _Oh he did not just call me that_. Bonnie was pretty darn certain her glare should have cooked him. Ash merely countered it with smug smile and planted himself between her and the exit._ _

__“She told you we broke up?” he asked her, leaning down. He was somewhat taller than her and being loomed over wasn’t a feeling she was overly fond of._ _

__“She said you’re a jerk,” Bonnie replied, frowning fiercely._ _

__A line creased his brow and for a moment, Bonnie wondered if she might have taken it a bit too far. So far as she was concerned, he could magic her into oblivion. Which didn’t sound like too much fun. Then he surprised her by bursting into laughter._ _

__“Typical,” he said, fighting to get his cackling under control. “Sounds just like her to say that. She doesn’t mean it. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her.”_ _

__Bonnie kept glowering at him. “Then you feel free to park yourself right over there and wait for her. She can say what she likes to you in person when she gets back.” She waved a hand at the little café across the street, his eyes following._ _

__Ash nodded his head, leered at her once more and then slouched off through the rain. With a sigh of relief, Bonnie ducked out as well. She kept as close as she could to the building as she headed down the ramp to the car-park, trying to stay as dry as possible. Once seated in her car, she locked the doors. There was no telling if Ash would do something even creepier… like follow her._ _

__Whipping her phone from her pocket, she selected Marceline’s name and sent a furious message. _Don’t go home. No matter what the time is. Just meet me at 32 Parnell St_._ _

__She didn’t get a reply from Marceline the whole time she was driving, not that she would have looked anyway. The weather was rotten, Bonnie could barely see five feet in front of her, she wasn’t going to risk a crash by dividing her attention. No way._ _

__Of course, the lot was packed when she got there and it took nearly ten minutes to find a space. Snatching her bag from the backseat, she hurried to the elevator and smacked the button for the third floor. She was _late_ and that really bothered her. Bonnie was going to have a cluttered day._ _

__The elevator pinged and popped her out. With a furtive glance at her watch and a low curse, she hustled toward the office. Stopping on the way to pick up the papers she needed._ _

__“You’re late, Miss Bubblegum,” said the little woman behind the desk. “And the stack is quite big this year. We’ve had so many entries; the post room was practically flooded with envelopes.”_ _

__“Yup, thanks.” Bonnie grabbed the little cardboard box and began to head down the corridor. Then she stopped and turned back. “Hey, Grace, is Rob here yet?”_ _

__“No, Miss,” the clerk replied. “He won’t be coming in today. Your mother had an errand for him to run.”_ _

__She waved and started off again. “Just send Ian in when he gets more.” It was going to be a long day. Bonnie had to shut the door to her little workspace with her foot and then spared a moment to glare at the area quite heatedly before dropping the box on the floor with a _whumph_._ _

__Tossing her bag in the corner, she crossed the room to pull up the blinds. It was still pelting outside and let no more light in than had already been there. She stood there a moment, watching the trees on the sidewalk being assaulted, whipping back and forth in a mad dance, trying to escape the malicious grasp of the wind. Splashes vaulted from the street, dashing out of the way of cars as they screeched through puddles. Then lightning flashed again, lighting the whole sky up, casting flickers of green across the underside of the clouds. Not three seconds later, the accompanying thunder drummed across the heavens, a whip crack and a low rumble that once again she felt in the soles of her feet._ _

__Sighing, she flopped onto the floor and pulled out all the envelopes contained by the box and began to organise them. Piles formed in a semi-circle around her, some neat, others more haphazard, and one pile was obnoxiously large. Schoolkids provided the largest number of these damn things every year and it appeared the amount had doubled since last time._ _

__Bonnie grumbled to herself and pulled open one envelope, squinting in the low grey light at the design. Too hectic, overly colourful, confusing. She tossed it back in the box and moved on. She was going to get bored very quickly. Normally Rob would help her with this tedium, but there was absolutely no way to turn down an ‘errand’ from their mother._ _

__Finally, her phone beeped. She ripped it from her pocket and peered at the glowing screen._ _

___Uh… why_? Marceline asked her._ _

__She tapped the phone against her lip, thinking. Did she just tell Marceline about Ash? Or did she make something up so she wouldn’t worry?_ _

___Your ex stopped by this morning looking for you. He seemed rather persistent. He might still be there later_._ _

__Bonnie made it through nearly two dozen more envelopes before her phone pinged her again. _He was at the apartment? You spoke to him? Are you ok_?_ _

__She smiled softly. _Yes, Marceline. To all three questions. He just wanted to know where you were so he could talk to you. I told him I didn’t know but he was welcome to wait across the street. Now I’m giving you warning so you know not to turn up. Figured you didn’t want to see him_._ _

__This time the reply was almost instantaneous. _Glad to hear it. Thanks for the heads up. Hey, what floor_?_ _

__Bonnie blinked. _Floor_?_ _

___At that place you sent me to. Where even am I, Bon_?_ _

___Third floor. Ignore the clerk, just find room 14B_._ _

__No reply. Seventeen envelopes later, the door creaked inwards slightly. She looked up but her eyes were used to being focused on the paper and she couldn’t see who it was._ _

__“Geez, Bon,” Marceline griped. “Turn a light on, it’s pitch black in here.” Suiting her words, she flicked the switch on the wall. Bonnie blinked again, her pupils contracting at the sudden light._ _

__“I thought you were busy,” Bonnie mused. “And don’t drip on the paper.” Marceline was soaked from head to toe. “Don’t you own an umbrella?”_ _

__Marceline just grinned at her, waved a hand and all of a sudden she was dry again. “Magic, babe, remember?” Her legs folded beneath her, she sat opposite Bonnie, staring at the piles of paper. “Uh… what’s all this then?”_ _

__“Work.”_ _

__“I thought you worked at the library and that research place? What’s the go, huh?”_ _

__Bonnie smiled. “Didn’t you read the signs?” she teased, snatching an envelope from Marceline._ _

__“No,” the other woman admitted. “I was having a minor heart attack wondering if you were ok.” She stared intently at Bonnie, frown marring her features. “ _Are_ you ok?”_ _

__“Yes, Marceline,” she laughed. “I sent that in my message. I’m fine. What did you expect?”_ _

__Her shoulders slumped. “I…” she exhaled. “I expected him to hurt you. He _is_ a jerk you know.”_ _

__“Yeah you told me.”_ _

__“So long as you’re ok then,” Marceline said, smiling again now. She rocked forwards, placing her hands on the floor to hold her weight. “Then everything is fine.” She pressed her lips gently to Bonnie’s before falling back to her previous position. “So.” Marceline waved a hand around and looked down at the papers. “What’s this place then, Bonnie?”_ _

__She lifted one eyebrow. “You really didn’t read the signs?” Marceline shook her head. “This is the Candy Kingdom.” Bonnie grinned. “You know, headquarters, very secret and all that. Employee’s only.”_ _

__Marceline returned her smile. “Am I breaking the rules being here?”_ _

__“I suppose you are. But I broke them inviting you. I guess I’m a bad person.”_ _

__That made Marceline laugh. “You? Oh dearest Bonnibel. You are not a bad person. I’m just a horrible influence.” She shuffled around to peer over Bonnie’s shoulder. “What are you even doing?”_ _

__She dropped another submission into the cardboard box. “Every year we repackage some of our product. At Christmas time we run a competition, mostly for schools, but other people enter too. The winner gets their design on the new packaging of one of our items. Pretty simple.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Marceline replied, fingering one loose design sitting beside her. “So… what are you doing right now?”_ _

__“Narrowing down the entries.” Another went into the box. “I’ve been doing this for years but normally I have Rob’s help. It’s going to take me all week without him.”_ _

__Marceline elbowed her, beaming. “Hey, Bon? That’s what you’ve got me for, yeah?” She bowed mockingly; it didn’t work as well as she might have wanted because she was seated. “Minion at your disposal. How do I do this?”_ _

__Happy to have help, Bonnie gave her a run-down of all things appropriate material were allowed to have. Then gave her a list of all the most _in_ appropriate things. She used a few examples to make her point._ _

__Marceline’s jaw dropped at some of them. “Are you kidding me? These are school kids?” She flipped the page over so Bonnie could see. “I mean really. How _old_ are they?”_ _

__“Primary school mostly,” Bonnie replied, adding one to the ‘possible’ stack. “But we have high school submissions too. And the general public is allowed to compete. But for publicity purposes and other general goodwill, we usually pick a kid.”_ _

__“Bonnie… no.” Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “This is… how do kids even _know_ some of this stuff.” She shuddered. “I can’t look away… Do you get these every year?” Finally, Marceline dropped the paper in the box._ _

__“Yes. Every single year we get gruesome ones, sordid ones, and more sexually implicit ones than I care to think about.” She sighed. “I don’t know why people bother. They have to know those designs won’t be picked.”_ _

__Marceline’s mouth hung open. “What must your mother think about all these? Does she know her precious angel gets to look at…?” She lifted one of the crasser designs to make her point._ _

__“No,” Bonnie replied, sliding her thumb under the tab to open another envelope. “Rob and I have been very careful to keep her mostly in the dark about the designs. It’s the one thing she lets us handle all on our own. Oh, sometimes she’ll stick her nose in to see how we’re doing, but she doesn’t get the final say and we never show her any of the… inappropriate ones. She’d have a heart attack.”_ _

__Marceline ribbed her. “You just like keeping secrets from your mother, don’t you?”_ _

__Bonnie swatted her elbow but couldn’t stop from smiling. “I don’t _like_ keeping secrets from my mum, Marcy. But… sometimes it happens. She’s a lot easy to get on with if she’s not… filled in on certain things.”_ _

__“Psh,” Marceline sighed. “And here everyone was telling me you’re perfect. A saint, an angel, _miss goody-two-shoes_.” She said the last in a silly high pitched voice. “They lied to me, Bonnie.” _ _

__The tone of her voice at the end made Bonnie shiver and bite her lip. “Even I could’ve told you I’m no saint,” she said around the lump suddenly in her throat. “I don’t know why you were listening to ‘ _everyone_ ’ in the first place. You should know better than to listen to gossip.”_ _

__“I don’t think that counts as ‘gossip’ actually, Bon,” Marceline said slowly. She was peering at an entry with her eyebrows drawn down so low her eyes were almost hidden. “I can’t tell what this is.”_ _

__“It’s no good then.”_ _

__So Marceline dropped it in the box. “It’s not gossip if people genuinely _believe_ you’re a goody-two-shoes. If they believe it then… it’s a fact. Not gossip.” She waved another paper around for emphasis. “The fact that I know they’re wrong doesn’t change the fact that they’re pretty darn convinced they’re right.”_ _

__Bonnie rolled her eyes. “That made very little sense. But sure, whatever you say.”_ _

__Marceline smirked, eyeing her crossways. “You’re a rebel, Bonnie. Your friends just don’t know it yet.”_ _

__“Oh I’m sure some of them do,” Bonnie said lightly. Then she frowned. “Hey… Ash, right? Does he do this often?”_ _

__Marceline’s smirk vanished as her eyebrows shot up. “Uh… you mean follow me everywhere? Yeah he does. I told you I’ve been avoiding him for years now… I don’t know. Why?”_ _

__Bonnie shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to be aware that you broke up with him. He introduced himself as your boyfriend. Maybe you should talk to him.”_ _

__“What?” she asked incredulously. “No… oh no. No, no. There will be no _talking_ with Ash. No.”_ _

__“He’s going to keep following you.”_ _

__“Let him.”_ _

__Bonnie put down the entry she was evaluating and twisted around to look at Marceline. Her jaw set, brow furrowed, eyes intently on her work, she did her best to ignore Bonnie. “Marcy…” Bonnie began. “What happened? What’s the deal with him?”_ _

__Marceline sighed and looked up. Shockingly, her eyes were full of hurt. “He… he was a bad guy, ok? He still is. But we had so much in common and he’s charming when he wants to be. I don’t know. I liked him. We dated. He got possessive, a bit crazy and…” She trailed off, averting her gaze._ _

__Bonnie put a hand on Marceline’s knee. “You can tell me you know? Anything. That’s what I’m here for.”_ _

__A wan smile flickered across Marceline’s face. “You won’t be judgey?”_ _

__Returning the smile, Bonnie took her hand and squeezed. “I won’t be judgey. Promise.”_ _

__Marceline exhaled again. “He… he hurt me. Not physically,” she added hastily at the look of complete horror on Bonnie’s face. “Emotionally… mentally I guess. The psychological kind. When you spend a few hundred years telling someone they’re worthless… eventually they start to believe it.” She paused, swallowing. “He… thought it was his right to tell me what to do. Like I was his servant rather than his girlfriend. And yeah, he did slap me sometimes, but it was the other stuff that hurt more. The way he acted like nothing that mattered to me was worth anything. Like _I_ wasn’t worth anything.” Marceline stared at the carpet between them, frowning. “The way he tried to keep me isolated, away from all the friends I had. Not many, to be sure, but I almost never saw them. And I’d get mad at him and then he’d smile and say something witty and charming and I’d forgive him. Pretend it hadn’t happened.”_ _

__Bonnie had absolutely no idea what to say to that. But Marceline didn’t give her a chance. “I did break up with him. Nearly five hundred years ago now. I believe my exact words were ‘we’re over, you psycho’ or something to that effect. Then I walked out. I don’t know how it didn’t sink in. I don’t want to talk to him, Bon. I don’t.” Marceline’s shoulders were shuddering and Bonnie had the strangest feeling that she was about to cry._ _

__She wrapped her arms around Marceline and hugged as tightly as she could, trying to stop her friend from shaking. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” Marceline’s hands clenched in her shirt. Bonnie’s throat constricted and she pressed her nose to Marceline’s neck. “He was wrong. You’re not worthless.”_ _

__Marceline took a trembling breath and exhaled, burying her face in Bonnie’s shoulder. After a moment, she stopped quivering and pulled back. She hadn’t cried, but she looked like she might still want to. “I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely._ _

__“Whatever for?”_ _

__“Breaking down like that,” Marceline replied with a shrug. “That was kind of pathetic.” She forced a watery smile onto her face but Bonnibel just kept staring at her in amazement._ _

__Bonnie put her hands on either side of Marceline’s face and forced the other woman to look her in the eyes. “No,” she said. “Just… just no. That’s stupid.” She scrubbed one thumb along the skin of Marceline’s pale cheek. “You’re supposed to tell me things. And I won’t laugh if you cry. I’d be a freaking awful person if I did.”_ _

__Then the transparent smile from before rocketed up to blindingly normal and Marceline pulled her close, pressing her face into Bonnie’s hair. “And he thinks there’s even a chance I’ll go back to him. Bah!” A low laugh buzzed in the back of her throat, vibrating through Bonnie’s chest. “Ha, why would I do that when I have you? Perfect, beautiful you.” She kissed Bonnie on the cheek and scrabbled away, brushing hair from her face. “Now, let’s get this _done_.”_ _

__For a whole two more hours they sat there sorting envelopes. Marceline got very excited when they neared the last few dozen. Only then Ian came in and dumped another box on the floor by the door. He spared Marceline no more than a passing glance before heading back out and in the space of his five second visit; Marceline’s expression went from elated to grumpy._ _

__“You were right,” she grumbled, ripping an envelope open much more forcefully than was required. “This is going to take forever. Do we really have to look at them all?”_ _

__“Yes, Marcy, we have to look at all of them.” Bonnibel tossed three she’d only given a cursory glance into the first box. Then, with a sigh, she rocked back onto her heels and stood, knees creaking softly, a protestation after being immobile for so long. “But how about we get lunch?”_ _

__Marceline cast her eyes behind her and lifted an eyebrow. “Bonnie it’s still raining cats and dogs. I’m not going out in this.”_ _

__“So? I didn’t suggest leaving. I said lunch.” She stuck her hand out and, with the smallest of pouts, Marceline took it._ _

__“If we’re not going outside,” Marceline grouched. “Where are we getting the food from?”_ _

__“Seriously? There’s a cafeteria.”_ _

__Marceline’s mouth fell open once again. “You’re kidding me right now, yeah? There is _not_ a cafeteria here! Why?” She paused, tapping a finger against her thigh. “What do they sell?”_ _

__Bonnie laughed. “This is the _Candy_ Kingdom. What do you think they sell?”_ _

__Of course that made Marceline’s eyes light up. “They’re catering to my sweet tooth. How thoughtful.”_ _

__“They serve proper food too, you know.”_ _

__“Can I mix and match?”_ _

__“I’m sure you can.”_ _

__Marceline beamed at her and yanked the door in. “What are we waiting for then?”_ _

__The cafeteria was on the second floor, an area of polished white stone and glass windows. Half of the space was indoors and the other half was through glass doors on a terrace, complete with gardens, and even a water fountain. The tables and chairs were all wicker and glass and curled iron decorations, padded with beige cushions. Her parents went all out on everything, even on an area used primarily by their staff. A happy staff member was a productive staff member._ _

__“Whoa,” Marceline breathed, stepping into the room. “ _This_ is the cafeteria? Wow. I mean, I know I shouldn’t be comparing it to high school ones, but that’s all I’ve got. The last place I was that had a cafeteria for the staff owned a vending machine.” She moseyed about and collapsed into one of the chairs by the balcony. “Cool.” Marceline rolled back to her feet and flounced over, hands jammed into her jean pockets. “So what’s for lunch?”_ _

__Bonnibel pointed at the sign above the buffet. “Whatever you like basically.”_ _

__“No way. No way.” Marceline was at the buffet before Bonnie could even blink and she had already examined every item of food by the time she wandered over. “You weren’t kidding, huh. Look at this. I mean… this is obscene. What workplace even _does_ this for its staff?”_ _

__“We do,” Bonnie replied with a smile. “Good for productivity and all that. Are you planning on leaving any of that?”_ _

__Marceline grinned self-consciously. “Um… no? I’m so hungry, Bon. I didn’t eat breakfast.”_ _

__“Why not?”_ _

__“I know, I know,” Marceline replied, waving a fork-bearing hand. “Most important meal of the day and all that. But I had to go see my cousin this morning and I didn’t have time to eat before I left. I was going to eat there, but when I got your text I panicked and left. Now I _really_ need to eat something.”_ _

__“Alright… well… whatever.” Bonnie blinked at her concernedly. “You’re not going to go crazy are you?”_ _

__Marceline laughed. “No, no. Don’t you know me well enough by now? I’m not going psycho on you. Just ravenous.”_ _

__Bonnie smiled again, relieving her of a plate of pasta and carrying it over to a table. “Pace yourself. And I’m appropriating this pasta. I don’t know what you did to it, but it smells great.”_ _

__“Oh ho! You think you can take my pasta?” Marceline chuckled. She didn’t try to reclaim it though, simply sat and picked up her fork. “So, do you plan on taking your work home with you?”_ _

__Bonnie shook her head. “I’m not… no. Nor do I plan on going back to the apartment tonight. Hey, do you think we can get that second box done this afternoon?”_ _

__Marceline frowned. “Possibly… When do you call it quits?”_ _

__With a wry grimace, Bonnie muttered, “Nine to five, Marcy. But I generally leave at six.”_ _

__“And when did you get here this morning?”_ _

__Bonnibel chewed her lower lip, face flushing. “About eight… Although I normally arrive at seven just in case.”_ _

__“Of course you do, you’re a workaholic. Alright then,” Marceline said rather loudly. “How about we get that second box done and then go home? How many days does it usually take to pick a winner?”_ _

__“About a week.”_ _

__“A _week_? Oh… well then…” Marceline trailed off, using her fork to push food around her plate but clearly thinking about something else. “Alright, proposition for you: two boxes a day – three if we turn up early and leave late every day – for seven days-”_ _

__“Five days. A working week, Marceline. The winner is announced on Boxing Day.”_ _

__Marceline’s fork clattered against the rim of her plate as she dropped it. “Babe, hate to tell you this, but you did _not_ leave yourself enough time. Even if I help every day, that’s not long enough. Wait… how many entries?”_ _

__“Uh…” Bonnie tried to recall how many Grace had said. A lot… She’d have to check before they left. “Grace didn’t give me an estimate, but I’m going to take a stab and say about five hundred.”_ _

__“That’s not as bad as I thought.”_ _

__“And Rob will be here tomorrow to lend a hand.”_ _

__“Oh, psh then. We can make that deadline easy.” Confident grin back in place, she resumed eating. “No worries.” A thought crossed her face and she frowned. “Hold the phone; you said you weren’t going back to the apartment. You gonna sleep here or something? Wait… why aren’t you going back?”_ _

__Bonnie snorted. “Come on. Your stalker ex-boyfriend is lurking outside. No way am I going back while there’s a chance he’ll… I don’t know… jump me in the hall. Uh-huh. Next stupid question please.”_ _

__“Alright, so where are you planning on staying? Rain’s?”_ _

__“Maybe. What are you going to do? You won’t go back. Hey, how are we going to get rid of him? I dislike the idea of never returning to my apartment because of a psycho like him.”_ _

__Marceline waved that concern away. “I called my dad. He’ll have some of his best guys on it in the morning. And I’m gonna stay with Keila tonight. She already offered to let me crash. I dare say she wouldn’t mind you staying too… If you don’t want to alarm Rain that is.”_ _

__Her fork froze half way to her mouth as that thought processed. Rain _would_ worry; no doubt about it. And there would be all manner of questions and concerns raised about how healthy it was to date a woman with a somewhat insane ex like Ash. No… she couldn’t tell Rain about that. Nope. No sir._ _

__She sighed. “Are you sure it wouldn’t bother Keila? You’re right, telling Rain would open up all manner of problems. Best to let that stay where it is. But I’d hate to be a bother.”_ _

__“Nah,” Marceline told her, beaming still. “She won’t care. She’s a musician. Although you might want to be careful what you say. She doesn’t know that you… know, yeah? Also she lives with two guys. But I’ll crush them if they look at you funny. Don’t worry.”_ _

__Bonnie chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.” Her fork scraped against the bowl and she looked down, startled by the noise. Empty? How had that happened? She blinked, confused and stood up. “I’m going back, ok? Don’t make yourself sick.”_ _

__Marceline grinned. “Course not. I won’t be long.”_ _

__Bonnibel sorted about three dozen entries before Marceline slouched back in. A bread-roll jammed in her mouth, something brown staining the edges. She lifted an eyebrow at it as Marceline sat._ _

__“I melted a few chocolate bars,” Marceline told her around a mouth full. “Then used it like butter. Very tasty. How we doing?”_ _

__“The first box is done,” Bonnie informed her. “Just this one to do. Ian will have more in the morning.”_ _

__“What’s his job?”_ _

__“He’s the mailman, Marcy,” Bonnie said dryly. “He separates the contest entries from everything else. And makes sure they get to the right floor.”_ _

__“He does that all by himself?” She seemed impressed._ _

__“Goodness, no. He has a few henchmen at his disposal. But he does the contest entries personally. He doesn’t like the idea that they could be tampered with.”_ _

__“Dedicated.”_ _

__The rest of the afternoon passed mostly in silence. Well… silent save for the unceasing drumming of rain, of course. It didn’t let up even once, just kept pounding on the roof as though hoping to gain entrance. At one point, bored of the quiet, Marceline began to sing softly to herself. It was nonsense mostly, but Bonnie didn’t mind, it was rather nice to have something to work to._ _

__Just before five, Marceline tossed the last entry into the discard box and leaned back stretching. Despite the lengthening days, the overcast outside created a premature twilight, darkening everything. Thunder boomed nearby and the ceiling light flickered._ _

__“Right, done,” Marceline sighed. “Let’s bounce, babe.” Her hip beeped and she pulled her phone out. “Keila. She and the guys are going out tonight. If we hurry you might get to meet them before they go. Keen?”_ _

__Bonnie shrugged. “Sure. Let’s get going then.” Marceline picked up the box and opened the door while Bonnie placed the ones they’d decided were at least slightly worthwhile in a drawer. She locked it. Her mother’s paranoia wasn’t to be escaped, not even when Cynthia herself had no say in the goings on._ _

__They dropped the box off with Grace who was inexplicably still around. “You should go home, Grace,” Bonnie told her gently. “Don’t be driving in the dark through this downpour.”_ _

__“Of course, Miss Bubblegum,” the little woman said brightly. “Let me just take care of this box and I’ll be off.”_ _

__“Take care of yourself,” Bonnie said as sternly as she could._ _

__“ _Miss Bubblegum_?” Marceline hooted when they entered the stairwell. “Oh god, I have to use that. Miss Bubblegum!” She nearly tripped she was laughing so hard._ _

__“It’s not all that funny, Marceline.”_ _

__“I dunno… I think it’s pretty funny. You don’t really seem like a ‘Miss Bubblegum’. It’s just funny to think of you like that.”_ _

__She grunted. “Whatever.”_ _

__“Aw,” Marceline very nearly purred, stepping into the parking lot. “Cheer up.” She looped one arm through Bonnie’s and kissed her cheek. “Gimme a smile.” Her voice, pitched low, growled in her throat, breath tickling Bonnie’s ear. While it might not have been a smile, the heat that boiled in her cheeks was good enough for Marceline. “That’s better.”_ _

__Her heart thudded, her ribs practically creaked with the force of it. Tension oozed from her shoulders no matter how hard she tried to be angry at her unrepentant girlfriend. With that blazing smile fixed on her face and the knowledge that it was rather silly to be upset by the laughter anyway, forgiveness slipped past her easily and she found herself smiling too._ _

__Marceline let her go, only because she had to drive, and as she keyed the ignition, engine cranking over lethargically, those intense brown eyes never left her face. A shiver that had nothing to do with the rain-lowered temperature crawled down her spine and sent warm bubbles sputtering through her stomach. Her breath hitched once and she forced a deep inhalation to calm herself. The car stuttered to life and she drove out into the deluge._ _

__“So, how do I get to Keila’s place?”_ _


	22. Hold On Tight And Don’t Let Go

The wipers parted sheets of never-ending rain just enough for Bonnibel to make out a two storey brick town house. Identical houses lined the street on both sides, bumping up against each other, crammed together in an attempt to get the most out of each square foot of land. One half of the ground floor was a garage, the roller door clamped shut, streams of water cutting down the green striped face and trickling across the driveway, sloped down to the street, before puddling in the gutter and running away. Lights on the second floor provided a dull halo of yellow through the gloom, hazy clouds surrounding the street lamps did their best to show her the way, but it was that faint glow that allowed her to park the car.

Only now did she realise that they were going to get absolutely drenched on their way to the house. And there was no roof over the doorstep. Marceline stretched into the backseat and grabbed a jacket, holding it out for her. It wouldn’t offer much protection from the rain, it wasn’t even waterproof, but it would help.

“You ready, Bon?” Marceline asked quietly. Thunder crashed, drowning out half of her question. Bonnie only nodded, knowing what her query had been.

“Let’s go.”

Marceline flashed her a quick smile and leapt out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Bonnie wasted no time in following, throwing the jacket above her head in a vain attempt to keep the water off. All it did was give the rain a nice gravity-aided path down her arms, past the coat, to soak her shirt. Her bag bumped her hip as she skidded on the slick pavement and she almost tilted head first into the brick around the door. Marceline’s out-thrown arm was the only thing that saved her.

The vampire, black hair a sopping frazzled mop hanging lank about her shoulders, buzzed the doorbell incessantly. She didn’t let up until a light flashed through the glass window inset at the top of the door. It was presently thrown open violently and hands shot out to drag them both across the threshold. A truncated glimpse of wild black was all she saw before the door was closed behind them.

“Crazy weather, huh?” said a lilting musical voice. Bonnie turned, arms sliding into the saturated coat, pulling the sleeves over her wrists and wrapping her arms around her. Her teeth chattered, lips no doubt blue from cold. The woman before her looked at the same time identical and completely different to Marceline. Hair, the colour of midnight and riotously curly was bundled atop her head, her eyes a piercing blue filled with laughter and a fanged smile, easily as bright as Marceline’s and just as cheeky were all things she recognised. So her eyes were the wrong colour, but they had that same childish glint to them. But her features were all wrong. Where Marceline was tall and lean, this woman was shorter and softer, almost plump, her face more rounded and heart shaped, cheekbones higher, nose wider, curved; almost beaklike. It gave her the impression of an owl.

Her eyes hardened though when they saw Bonnie, a shivering mass of cold. She wriggled her toes in her shoes, trying to warm them and her fingers clenched tighter in her coat under that stare. She got the distinct impression that she was intruding.

“Oh god, Bonnie,” Marceline said, noticing how frozen she must be. She extended a hand before realising that she – a vampire – had no warmth to share. Her fingers instead danced madly, concerned and needing to help, but unable to think of how. Her head whipped around to the other woman. “Keila, can she borrow your shower?”

Frowning, Keila nodded and pointed up the stairs. Carefully, Marceline grabbed her by the jacket and all but dragged her, stumbling, up the steps. Then she promptly set about like she owned the place, snatching up a towel and pressing Bonnibel into the bathroom.

“Hot tap is actually the cold one,” she blurted. “They’re backwards. Hang on while I find you something to wear.” She disappeared outside in a cloud of hair and surged back in mere seconds later. “I always leave some clothes here just in case I need to crash.” She held out a black top and a pair of corded grey track pants. Her eyes were so wide, but Bonnie was hesitant to label the look therein as fear. She dropped the clothes on the side of the sink and quickly began to fidget again. “Are you ok?” she asked.

Bonnie reached out one trembling, frigid hand and patted her arm. “I’ll be fine,” she clattered, unable to keep her teeth from chattering. “Let me have a shower. Thank you.”

Shoulders slumped with relief, Marceline slouched back out and the door clicked behind her. Her clothes slopped onto the floor and she relished the warmth of the water, feeling the life return to her. She stayed in maybe longer than she needed to, but it felt so nice that she was loathe to give it up. Happily, she found a hair dryer in the cupboard beside the sink. Dry and dressed, she shuffled outside, leaving her wet clothes hanging over the side of the shower, hoping they dried quickly.

Marceline was seated in the living room, legs bouncing anxiously, fingers tapping on her knees. Keila sat on the sofa across from her in a black dress and stockings, heeled boots rested beside her. Her eyes examined Marceline carefully, thoughtful and confused. Bonnie paused at the end of the hall and just watched them. It was interesting… Keila was a vampire, she knew that, but in that moment, in that tableau, she looked just like a regular person wondering what the _hell_ was going on with her friend.

Then Marceline looked up, biting her lip, and saw Bonnie there. Her face exploded, equal parts relief and happiness. She jerked to her feet but didn’t move beyond that, though it looked like she wanted to.

“I’m ok,” Bonnie told her softly. “Warm now.” Her friend (dry, she noticed) sagged. Carefully, not at all sure about Keila, she stepped across the room and sat. Marceline flopped down beside her, eyes – still full of concern despite her assurances – never once leaving Bonnie’s face.

Keila coughed. “Who are you?” she asked bluntly of Bonnie. She leaned forward, something danced in her eyes. Fascination, Bonnie thought it might be.

“Bonnibel,” she told the vampire. Slowly, she leaned forward and proffered her hand. Keila took it with only a moment’s hesitation. “I’m Marceline’s roommate.”

“Ah. And I presume you know about her crazy ex-boyfriend then?”

“Yes. He’s a bit of a creep really, isn’t he?” Bonnie grimaced just thinking about him. “There’s no way I’m spending the night at the apartment, _alone_ , while he could be lurking about.” She shuddered at the thought. “No thanks.”

Now a smile burst onto Keila’s face. “Then there’s, at the very least, one thing you and I agree on. He needs a swift kick to the posterior and a few well salted words to rub in his imagined wounds.”

 _Poetic_ , Bonnie thought. Keila was every bit as lyrical as Marceline. Unlike Marceline, however, Keila appeared perfectly capable of expressing herself in normal conversation.

“I more than concur with that,” Bonnie grumbled. “I’m really sorry to just appear like this.” She turned to face Marceline. “Would you please stop staring at me? I told you: I’m fine.”

Marceline’s cheeks bruised blue, the closest she’d ever come to blushing. “Sorry,” she croaked. Her eyes flicked to the shirt Bonnie was wearing and a small smile creased the corners of her mouth. She fought it down and was almost successful, then turned to Keila. “Do you mind if she crashes here too, Kei? She’s got nowhere else to go.”

Keila waved a hand. “Pah, of course. No worries. You’ll have to arrange yourselves though, only the couch folds out.” She lifted a pointed eyebrow at Marceline. “I suppose you could use my bed. But you trashed my room last time. Don’t do it again.”

Marceline grinned impishly. “That wasn’t me. I swear on my life it was Marshall.”

“Whatever. Just don’t do it again.”

“Yo, Marce! We heard your stalker was in town.” A short, lithe man stepped into the room, shaking water from shaggy brown hair. He was followed closely by a slightly taller fellow, wider in every respect and built like a wrestler. His blonde hair took a two blade razor by the looks, cut so close to his head he was almost bald. They were both wet, and dressed up. Marceline had said they were going out.

The larger of the two elbowed the other in the gut when he saw Bonnie perched on the couch and grinned toothily at her. True to her word, Marceline glared back at him. With a grunt, the smaller fellow looked up, grimacing. His expression fell flat when he noticed Bonnie though.

“Hey, nice lady,” said the larger of them, taking a step towards her. He thrust a hand big enough to cover her face at her. “I’m Javier, but everyone calls me Bongo.” Warily, Bonnie placed her hand in his and it fair engulfed her. He was surprisingly gentle though. “And this dork is Guy.” He jerked his head over his shoulder at the smaller man.

“Bonnibel,” she said quietly. Marceline kept glaring.

“What’s got you in a knot, Marce?” Bongo asked her jokingly. “You look like someone took the last cookie.”

“Shut up, Bongo,” she growled.

Guy peeked past his larger friend to stare at Bonnie. Whether out of curiosity or something else she wasn’t sure. Either way, the look Marceline shot him should have made him shrivel.

“Where’s Marshall?” Guy asked of Marceline, eyes still on Bonnie though.

“At home I imagine,” Marceline replied, snapping her fingers. “If you’re going to talk to me, Guy, do me the honour of looking at me when you do.”

He went bright red. “Sorry. You don’t often introduce us to your friends though. This is weird.”

Marceline blew air out, frustrated. “Only because you lot react like this. It’s almost as if you’re _surprised_ to find I have friends other than you.” She crossed her arms huffily. “I do, you know.”

Grinning, Bongo said, “Somehow, I don’t think Briar counts, Marce.”

“And neither does Marshall,” Guy added. “He’s your brother; he can’t be a friend too.”

“Sure he can,” Marceline fired back. “Bonnie can be my roommate and my friend at the same time. So Marshall can be my brother _and_ a friend… sometimes. And Briar does too count.”

Keila smiled. “So Bonnibel, do you regret letting Marceline move in yet?” It was a rather abrupt change of topic, but Bonnie got the impression Keila liked to be to the point. And this particular topic shift served the dual purpose of getting the others to stop arguing. Something Bonnie had no doubt would end badly.

“No,” she said softly, trying very hard not to actually _look_ at Marceline. She could feel the other woman grinning though. “Not yet. Why? Does she go through roommates or something?” 

Marceline’s smile flickered. “I’m right here, Bon,” she grumbled.

“Or something,” Keila chuckled. “It takes a special kind of person to put up with her.”

“Hey!” Marceline squawked. “I can hear you.”

“That’s the point,” Keila told her, smiling. Bongo tapped his watch and Keila tugged her boots on. “You sure you don’t want to come with us, Marce?”

“Thanks but no,” Marceline grumped. “I’m gonna sit right here all night and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind. Besides, you’re all being mean.”

“What about you, Bonnibel?” Guy asked her softly. “Would you like to come with? We’re going to a bar downtown. They have a band playing tonight.”

She shook her head shortly. “No thanks. I… uh… don’t like the idea of getting wet again. Thanks for the offer.” Bonnie smiled at him and he went bright red, shuffling off towards the stairs.

“Alright then, ladies,” Bongo boomed, extending his hand again. “Lovely to meet you, Bonnibel. Take care of Marceline for me.” He winked. “Good that you can stand her too. Don’t let her get you down.” Marceline glared at him as he laughed his way to the front door.

Keila stood. “Television is yours, Marce you know where the DVDs are, go nuts. Fridge doesn’t have much in it, but eat what you like.” She lifted a warning finger at Marceline. “Don’t break anything. Nice to meet you, Bonnibel. Marceline should bring you round some other time.” With a quick flash of teeth, she slid down the stairs after the guys.

“Right,” said Marceline, standing. “I doubt Keila has much in her kitchen, she eats worse than me. Don’t give me that look, it’s true. So I’ll go get some. You can pick a movie or whatever.”

Bonnibel lifted one eyebrow as Marceline headed for the stairs. “Marcy,” she called gently. Her friend stiffened and turned. “I’m alright you know. I was just cold.”

Marceline’s shoulders slumped and she knelt before her. “Are you sure? I always forget how fragile humans are.”

Bonnie kissed her forehead. “I’m fine. A jacket might be nice though.”

“And some food.” A pallid grin burst across Marceline’s face. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Then Marceline vanished, the front door slamming shut was all she heard. Sighing, she unfolded the sofa into a bed and tottered over to investigate the fridge. Just as Marceline had said, it was pretty much devoid of food. The pantry was equally lacking. All Bonnie could find was a few chocolate bars and a packet of chips. Vampires really did eat rubbish a lot.

A collection of stands and cabinets stood along one wall of the living room, all full of DVDs and CDs. She perused many of them, but hadn’t even concluded the second rack before the door crashed open again. It scared the flipping life out of her and she almost jumped a foot in the air, spinning to see what had happened.

Marceline came stalking up the steps, steaming, bearing three pizza boxes in one hand and a bag with plastic containers dangled from the other. The bag she shoved, muttering irritably, into the freezer. Then she turned to find Bonnie, wide-eyed on the floor in front of the television.

“You alright?” Bonnie asked her hesitantly. “You look… angry.”

Marceline dropped the pizza onto the fold-out and waved a hand, sucking the water from her clothes and leaving her dry. “Just the damn pizza boy. Kept asking me whether I was alright in the head. Idiot.” She flopped down onto the bed and took a deep breath. “I’m ok. Did you find something?”

“I found a few possibilities,” Bonnie replied, sitting beside her. “Personally, I thought you might need a laugh.” She waved ‘Twilight’ around in front of Marceline’s face.

“Ew, no. Why does Keila even have that? It’s wrong about so very many things and as a self-respecting vampire, I refuse to watch it. Pick another one.”

Laughing, Bonnibel dropped the offending movie on the floor and selected another. “Superheroes then? I have a broad variety of them.”

Marceline tapped her knee. “You know what? I haven’t seen that one. Put it in.” She indicated ‘Iron Man 3’ with one long finger and smiled. “I know what you’re thinking, Bon, but contrary to what you believe, I don’t just lounge around watching movies all the time. There are ones I haven’t seen.”

“Shocking.” Bonnie slid the movie into the player and sat back down.

“Oh!” Marceline careened to her feet and disappeared down the hall. She re-emerged a moment later with a blanket. “Not a jacket, but I don’t know how often they wash, so this is the safer bet anyway.”

“It’ll do,” Bonnibel said with a laugh. “What was in the bag? The one you stuffed in the freezer.”

“Ice-cream. What else?” She draped the blanket over them before tucking into her food.

“How can you possibly be hungry after what you ate for lunch?” Bonnie asked her, incredulous. She herself only ate half her pizza before placing the box on the floor beside the sofa. “You amaze me.”

Marceline smiled. “I should hope so. I _am_ amazing.” Yet after the first one, Marceline pushed the pizza box away and smiled thinly. “I have eaten a lot today. Thank your folks for me would you?”

“Sure.” Marceline wrapped an arm around Bonnie and pulled her close. Bonnie rested her head on Marceline’s shoulder and fixed her eyes tiredly on the screen. After such a boring day, the over-the-top-ness of the movie made her feel better. Still, she wouldn’t mind a sleep.

“Keila’s a vampire, right?” Bonnie asked around a yawn as a power pole exploded on screen.

“Yup. Adopted cousin, remember?”

“Mmm… so what are the other two?”

“Guy’s a shapeshifter. He does what he likes. And Bongo’s what we all call a revenant. They are… weird. I don’t really know how to describe them. But they’re essentially the reason people believe in ghosts.”

“He didn’t look like Casper to me.”

Marceline chuckled. “No, but he can become intangible or invisible if he feels like it. He’s handy to have around when you want to prank someone.”

“And Briar? If she’s related to Poison Ivy I think I’ll die of laughter.”

“Briar… was a friend from when I lived in England. She’s a dryad. A tree spirit associated with oak trees. I suppose we’re technically still friends, but I haven’t seen her in a very long time.”

“Hmm,” Bonnie hummed sleepily.

Marceline nudged her shoulder. “Hey, Bon? Are you sure you’re alright? You were very pale before…”

Bonnie wound her fingers into Marceline’s shirt. “I promise… I’m perfectly fine.” She propped herself up and kissed Marceline’s cheek to prove it. Only she missed. Laughing now, Bonnie pressed her face into Marceline’s neck. “Sorry,” she said around her fitful giggles, tapping the other woman on her nose.

Marceline grinned. “No you’re not.” Her hand on the small of Bonnie’s back disappeared and tilted her face up, away from Marceline’s shoulder. “But that’s ok. You just need better aim.” She leaned down and her lips, cool and gentle, brushed Bonnie’s.

Reflexively, Bonnibel’s fingers contracted around fistfuls of Marceline’s shirt and clutched her close, leaning into the kiss. A laugh bubbled in Marceline’s throat, her hand on Bonnie’s chin slithered across her cheek, fingers finding her ear and sliding behind it, winding into her hair. Her teeth whickered over Bonnie’s lip and she exhaled heavily, Marceline’s fingers winding into the hem of Bonnie’s shirt now.

An explosion on the television cut off abruptly and plunged them into unexpected darkness. The lights on the ceiling flickered fitfully before they too _fzzzt_ to black. They broke apart and looked around, Bonnie blinking confused into the suddenly lightless room.

Disentangling herself and slipping out from under the blanket, Marceline flipped the switch on the wall a few times and stuck her head into the fridge. She sighed and crawled back to Bonnie. “It would seem the power is out,” she whispered. She wrapped an arm around Bonnie’s waist and sighed. “Guess I won’t be seeing that movie after all.”

Bonnibel laughed at her. “I have a feeling – with or without power – you weren’t going to watch the movie,” she teased.

“What are you trying to say,” Marceline gasped, indignant. “Are you suggesting that there might be something here that I was paying more attention to than the television? How rude.”

Bonnie’s head sank onto Marceline’s shoulder. “That’s terrible,” she grumbled around a yawn. She shivered. With a start, Marceline pulled her arm away, but Bonnie just caught her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Not your fault.” Carefully, she wound Marceline’s arm around her again, still holding onto her hand. “Just hold on tight.”

Marceline sighed, stirring Bonnie’s hair. “Bon… are you just going to sleep now? You don’t want to do something?”

“With the power out, I suppose it would depend on what that ‘ _something_ ’ was, Marcy,” she said lowly. Marceline trembled, her grip on Bonnie’s hand tightening.

 _Did I really just say that_? Bonnie mentally slapped herself, wondering where the heck that came from. _There will be no innuendos. Absolutely no innuendos. None_. 

“Uh… It was just a question. You’re the brainlord; I figured you’d think of something if you wanted to… not sleep just yet. Um… I promise… I had nothing in mind.” Her fingers twitched. 

“I think I’ll go to sleep then. If that’s alright.” She yawned again. “Got to get through a lot of stuff tomorrow.”

Marceline rested her forehead on Bonnie’s shoulder. “Yeah we do.” She took a deep shuddering breath, lungs expanding unnecessarily against Bonnie’s back. 

Sleep. It fogged her mind over, the sound of the rain drumming – less harshly now than it had been earlier – on the windows filled the dark room with a soft lullaby. Her eyes closed. It was funny how earlier the rain had been so inconvenient, but now it provided her with a therapeutic avenue towards sleep, paved dimly and slightly mournful. She sighed happily, and she felt Marceline squeeze her hand. As her mind shut down (very slowly, it almost never stopped thinking and that was her curse), soft words, harmonising with the rain, filtered through the sleepy haze.

“ _Wish you could see yourself the way I do._  
 _Nobody ever told you,_  
 _Yeah… nobody ever told you,_  
 _You shine like a diamond,_  
 _Glitter like gold._  
 _And you need to know,_  
 _What nobody ever told you._ ”

Marceline’s soft voice petered out and she pressed her face harder into Bonnie’s shoulder. “Sleep well, Bonnie,” she whispered. And the rain drowned out Bonnibel’s brain at last, sleep claiming her.


	23. Punch That Clock And Call It A Day

“It was still raining. Of all the _ballgunk_! What was even wrong with the weather? It wasn’t as heavy as the day before, but remained as unrelenting. Sadly, it wasn’t the rain that woke Bonnie in the morning, it wasn’t even her alarm – or her phone since she wasn’t at home. Oh no, she was woken by a sharp jab in the shoulder and loud laughter.

Groaning she sat up, swatting at the finger as it tried to jab her again. Her eyes took a moment to adjust and her hand groped for her glasses, sitting on top of the pizza box from the night before. Keila was perched on the chair next to her.

“Wake up, Bonnibel,” she chuckled. “I think you slept in.”

“What time is it?” she asked blearily.

“Nearly nine.”

She exploded to her feet. “Cake. _Cake_! Oh my goodness I’m late.” She stopped very suddenly and looked around. “Hey… where’s Marceline?”

“She left,” Keila replied with a shrug and a ‘who really cares’ expression. “Said she had something ‘ _really monumentally important_ ’ to do today.” She employed her fingers in the making of air-quotes around that one part. “And no, I don’t know what it might be. She wasn’t very forthcoming about it. She did say to let you know that her dad took care of Ash. So you can sleep in an actual bed tonight.” She snickered at that.

Bonnie’s mind cranked up into over-drive, processing the information. Her fingers tightened absently in the fabric of her shirt and something clicked in her brain. “Wait… what? What are you laughing about?”

Keila, still in the clothes she’d worn out the previous evening, headed for the kitchenette. “Oh just… we got home about an hour ago and you were both curled up on the couch together. It was kind of cute. Not very like Marceline, but cute just the same. Oh, Bongo is gonna mock her for that for the rest of her life. She’s never gonna live it down.” And the grin on her face was the same blinding and almost-but-not-quite-reassuring smile Marceline often wore.

Deciding that Keila’s amusement was of less concern than how late she was, Bonnie scurried to the bathroom. Her fingers, closing desperately around her previously sopping clothes, trembled with relief when they discovered the garments were now perfectly dry. Hastily, she pulled them on; shoving the borrowed clothes Marceline had given her in her bag so she could take them home to wash.

Still wearing her tickled grin, Keila at least offered her breakfast, but (recalling how bare the fridge had been last night) Bonnie declined. She could eat at work. “Suit yourself,” Keila called as she cannoned down the stairs. It was only when she reached the door and remembered it was raining that she groaned.

“Keila!” she called as softly as she could. “You wouldn’t happen to have an umbrella I can borrow?”

Laughter echoed down to the door. “In the door on your left.” As promised, a small, somewhat tattered and probably leaky umbrella hung from a hook on the inside of the door. It was black and had little white bats printed all over it. Oh these Abadeers had quite the sense of humour.

 _They really play up the misgivings_ , Bonnie thought, popping it open. “Thanks for letting me stay the night,” she yelled back at Keila.

“Any time,” Keila replied.

Taking a deep breathe, Bonnie shoved the door out and whipped the umbrella above her head, dashing out into the rain. Marceline hadn’t taken her car, it was still in the drive and she slithered into the driver’s seat, pulling the door closed behind her as fast as she could. Her breath misted softly in front of her. After two days of non-stop rain, the temperature had plummeted and she found herself shivering. With stiff fingers, she flicked the heater on, of course then the windscreen fogged up and she couldn’t see a damn thing.

 _Perfect_. She turned the heater off and rolled the windows down the teensiest of slivers to try and cool the glass. Between the curtains of rain and her trembling icicle fingers, getting back to the Candy Kingdom took ages. Visibility was rubbish. Her phone beeped twice along the way, texts both times, but she ignored them. There’d be opportunities to check when she got to the office.

Once parked, she took the elevator, hoping to all the gods that it would be warmer upstairs. Grace had her face buried in a magazine when Bonnie stepped out on the third floor but she looked up when Bonnie stopped by the desk. Her eyebrows climbed and she had a little knowing smile on her face.

“Weren’t you wearing that yesterday, Miss Bubblegum?” she asked in a too-sweet tone.

 _Of course she’d notice_ , Bonnie grumbled internally. “Had to stay at a friend’s place last night.” She scooped a brand new box of envelopes off the desk. “Is Rob here today?”

Grace’s smile turned into a grin, although she still seemed a little too knowing for Bonnibel’s taste. “He sure is. Been here nearly two hours. Your friend not with you today, huh?”

In the process of turning away Bonnie froze, fingers twitching on the cardboard. She looked very slowly over her shoulder, brain racing for some suitable excuse. “Um… no, Marceline has… things… Uh… Yeah she’s busy.”

 _Wait a minute_ , she thought with a flash of momentary intelligence. _Grace doesn’t know squat. What is going on with me_? She shook her head and blew out air.

“Ok…” Grace said, her smile losing its mischief. “Nice to know you have friends though, Miss. Your brother says you’re a workaholic.”

“Mmhmm. Have a good day, Grace.” Bonnie waved her free hand over her shoulder and headed for the office space. The door was ajar and the light wasn’t on, but even through the slight crack she could see paper strewn across the floor. Robert worked in much the same way she did… Only with a little less organisation.

She pushed it in and stared down at his blinking face. A smile crept across her face as she recalled the same thing having happened yesterday when Marceline walked in. “It’s very dark in here, Rob,” she informed him, flicking on the switch. 

He blinked again, head whipping down to the carpet so his eyes could adjust to the brightness. “Give a guy some warning there, Elle,” he muttered. “But it is nice to have some illumination.” Rob looked back up at her and beamed in his school-boy way. “And it’s so good of you join me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and sat down on the other side of his envelope half-circle. Her cardboard box _shfffd_ to the carpet and she started scooping handfuls of entries from inside to dump on the floor. “I didn’t have an alarm last night and I slept in.”

Rob lifted an eyebrow. “And Marceline didn’t think to wake you? That’s terrible.”

“She woke before me and left early. What’s your system?” Bonnie indicated his piles of paper in askance, wanting to know which one was which.

He stuck a finger to the pile on his left. “Keepers.” The finger moved to his knee. “Maybes.” He indicated the rather large jumble in front of him that appeared to be sort of half-formed into about four smaller piles. “Mmm… not sorted yet. Some I’ve looked at and aren’t certain on and others I haven’t checked.” Lastly, he pointed to his right where a pair of cardboard boxes were stacked inside each other, the top one half full of torn paper. Several sheets had missed their mark and now sat on the floor. “Definitely no. I also had a ‘maybe no’ pile, but I got rid of it. Too confusing. I just took all of them and threw them in with the ‘definitely nos’.”

“Excellent.” With that, Bonnie set about adding to his mess. Of course, she had to start her own pile for the ones she hadn’t checked yet, but she just added to his for the rest. The ‘keepers’ pile remained pitifully small for most of the morning.

Unlike Marceline who had to work with background noise, Robert was perfectly capable of going about his business in silence. Something Bonnie was grateful for, she’d never been overly fond of raucous workspaces. Although, as the morning dragged on, she felt herself missing the soft music Marceline always had playing whenever she did something. How peculiar.

I think that says something about me, she grouched, glaring at the paper. _Getting too attached to someone. Picking up their habits. Ugh_.

But then of course, there was that little voice that counter-argued and exclaimed rather indignantly about, _how much you really do enjoy her singing. And the music isn’t_ that _bad, right? It is nice to work with sound sometimes, it doesn’t feel so empty_.

She shook her head, focusing on her work. _I flat out_ refuse _to have a mental debate with myself. That’s crazy_. And maybe it was crazy, and maybe Marceline had a terrible work ethic, Bonnie would have been lying to herself if she’d said she didn’t miss the woman. Having a rhythm to work to had helped…

Lack of music aside, Bonnie was easily consumed by her work for the morning. Or at least until about eleven. When her stomach began to eat itself though, she was forced to recall having not eaten yet. It made an embarrassing gurgle of complaint and Robert looked up, grinning idiotically.

“You right, Elle?” he asked around a smirk.

“I haven’t eaten yet today,” she nearly snapped in reply.

“Why not?”

“There was nothing to eat in the fridge but cold pizza,” she sighed. “And I didn’t want that. I was going to get breakfast here, but…”

Rob’s expression softened. “But naturally you got sucked up by your work. You really are a silly person, Elle. Take a break then. Let’s go get lunch.”

Relieved, Bonnie nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “So what was your ‘errand’ from mother dear yesterday?” she asked on the way down to the cafeteria. She risked a glance over at him but he didn’t seem too perturbed by the question.

He shrugged. “She wants a new recipe. She asked me to start thinking of possible things we could make.” He looked down at her and offered a wan smile. “I dare say she’ll be onto you soon. You know she loves how practical you are with recipes.”

Bonnie grimaced. “You mean she loves that I can come up with a formula theoretically and then give it to you to make. No expensive experimentation process involved. Straight from paper to package.” She sighed. “The only reasons she ever consented to let me study science I reckon.”

Robert chuckled. “You know, you’re probably right. But that’s ok, because together we’re a wonderful and indispensable team. And we’re incredibly cheap. You know how much it’d grate on her miserliness if she had to actually _make_ all the formulas you throw away before she knew if they’d work. Feel _loved_ , Elle.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

“Yeah,” she said sourly. “I can invent a recipe and you can cook it. _Great_. What happens if I ever tell her I don’t want to work here anymore?”

He blinked, clearly not sure what to say to that. “Um… she hires Lucy to make rumours about you so you seem undesirable and all of a sudden you have no future employment prospects. Sound right?”

Bonnie sighed again. “That does indeed sound about right. I suppose it’s a good thing that I don’t mind it here then.”

“You don’t?” Rob asked her flatly, a bemused smirk curling his lips.

“What?” she asked, glancing up at him sharply. “No of course not. I mean, sure, it’d be nice to be trusted with something a little less… boring. But… I don’t mind it. Besides, it’s nice to have steady employment.”

“And here I was thinking you hated the oppressive atmosphere of this place. Always with the science stuff trying to get away from it all. You never did go to business school.”

“I took business classes though, if you recall.”

He nodded slowly. “True. So… what? One day when mum hands you the keys to the front door you just grin and accept it?”

“Sure, I won’t be the only one getting those keys, Rob, and you know it. When that day rolls around, you’ll be right there with me.” She snatched a tray from the bench and glared at the food. “Neither of us can escape that. Previous life choices notwithstanding.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rob queried gently as he ladled chicken soup into his bowl. “What life choices?”

“As you said; I _don’t_ have a business degree or any formal qualifications that might aid me in the running of a company. I’m a _scientist_ at heart, Rob. Always have been; and nothing mum says can change that. Also… no never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, you just thought better about saying whatever it was. Spit it out.”

She sighed yet again. “I just… The family is all on you right now, Robert,” she muttered. “Its future I mean.”

He eyed her in silence for a moment, placing a bread roll and a little tub of butter on the edge of his tray. Rob maintained this studious quiet as he followed Bonnie to a table and sat down opposite her. It was only after they started eating (Bonnie with the gusto of someone who hadn’t in a while) that he opened his mouth.

Then he closed it again. Open. Closed. Finally, “Yeah, so… Marceline…” His head bobbed, eyes now fixed on his plate. “You, uh… weren’t kidding then?”

Bonnie’s head tilted to one side as she smiled at him. “Why would I kid about something like that, Robert? Did you think it was some elaborate prank we set up in our spare time?”

Fuchsia tinged his cheeks. “Actually… I did at first. It seemed the sort of thing she would do, you know? But not something you’d be sucked into.”

“I wouldn’t toy with the emotions of my friends like that, Rob,” she replied as gently as she could. “Marceline might, but I wouldn’t. I wasn’t joking. Why? Do you secretly disapprove?”

He shook his head vehemently, eyes meeting hers again in fierce denial. “No way. Never. This is your choice, Elle, and I’ll support you.” A smile tempered his seriousness. “I’m your brother, that’s what I’m for. But if she hurts you, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll tell mum.”

Bonnie grinned at him. Rob would never be able to hurt someone, but telling their mother about it was tantamount to signing Marceline’s exile from the country. “Aw, how sweet of you.”

He cast his eyes back at his tray, looking up briefly from below his brow. “Is it… I mean… Do you…? Are you…?”

“Oh, Robert, just spit it out already.”

“Is this a serious type relationship, Elle?” he finally spluttered. “Or a ‘gee, this is nice but what am I doing’ type deal.”

Bonnie’s stomach lurched unexpectedly, something near her diaphragm fluttering wildly at his words. “Um…” Her hands slid off the table to twiddle anxiously in her lap. “I don’t… We haven’t…” She closed her eyes and forced her suddenly erratic breathing to slow. “I’m not entirely sure. There was a lot of the ‘gee, what am I doing’ at first… but not anymore. Now it’s just the nice part.”

 _Although_ , she reflected. _Marceline was a little irritated about being called ‘just nice’ that one time… Perhaps a revision is in order_ …

Rob looked like a deer in headlights. “Serious?”

She shrugged, glancing out the window. “Define that term for me, would you kindly?”

“Elle… Come on.”

“I don’t know, Rob, okay? We… sit around watching movies a lot. We fall asleep on the couch most nights and sometimes she convinces me not to eat a healthy meal for dinner. We don’t do anything special. Nothing. In fact, it’s kind of like… living with you… Only with slightly less time for work and we mostly use disposable cutlery now.”

“Comfortable.”

“Yeah ok, comfortable.”

“And you don’t mind that it’s repetitive?”

Bonnie blinked, not having really thought about that. “Is it… not supposed to be?”

He shrugged. “If you recall when Jake first asked Rain out he bent himself over backwards trying to come up with fancy things for them to do. He tried to _impress_ her. They never did the same things twice.”

Bonnie grimaced. “Now recall that I’m not Rain and I kind of like not having to go out all the time. It’s nice on occasion, but I’m perfectly happy sitting in the apartment wearing pyjamas and watching half a movie before falling asleep on the couch. It’s nice.”

Rob’s expression softened. “Then I guess that’s what you need, huh? Maybe mum’s peacocking gentlemen with fine taste in wine and a penchant for fancy restaurants isn’t for you after all. You really don’t mind not going out?”

“We go out sometimes. I meant, we’re not going to Gourmet’s or anything, but that’s ok. I don’t really like that place anyway.”

He smiled. “New topic then: What did you think of Bee?”

“I didn’t mind her, actually,” Bonnie replied happily. It was as though an elephant had just wandered from the room and the conversation didn’t feel so stifled. “Finn said he was worried that we’d dislike her for being… ‘unrefined’, was the term he used I think.”

Robert snorted. “After living with Marshall for four months? Pretty sure I can take it.”

“That’s what I said,” Bonnie added enthusiastically with a wave of her fork.

“Well I liked her too. She sure can cook. I was impressed.”

The look on Rob’s face made Bonnie smile. She hadn’t seen him smile like that in a long time and it took a great deal for him to be impressed by someone’s cooking. Bonnie didn’t mention anything, but she hoped he wasn’t going to be blind about this. 

Once they’d finished lunch, they meandered back up to the office to finish their sorting. The conversation moseyed about in a careless fashion, moving from one topic to the next easily. And they kept talking all afternoon, just about random stuff. From what Rob’s friends were up to these days, to whether or not they’d go to the get-together being thrown by some of their high school friends after New Year’s. Simple things, boring, everyday things, the kinds of things that belied the possibility that they were both living with the supernatural. Which, Bonnie mused to herself, was a rather easy secret to keep.

As they were packing up, three boxes of entries completed that day, Bonnibel’s phone beeped.

 _Check it out: the sun’s appeared at last_ , Rain typed. _You and I are going shopping tomorrow. Just us. We need dresses for Christmas at your mum’s_.

Rob peered over her shoulder, carrying the boxes to the desk for Grace to deal with. “Who’s that?” He dropped the sorted envelopes on Grace’s desk and shot her a smile. Of course the calf-eyes Grace returned went unnoticed. He was such an oblivious dinkus.

“Rain,” Bonnie replied, fingers tapping away in response. “She wants to go dress shopping tomorrow.”

 _Sure. I’ll meet you at Dillory’s at 9. Sound good_?

 _Fantastic! I won’t bring Jake. We need a girls’ day_.

Bonnie snickered as she typed her reply. _Marceline is a girl, Rain_.

 _She can’t come. Just you and me. It’s been far too long. Don’t be late_.

Rob fell in beside her as they headed for the elevator. “So? What’s going on?”

“I just told you,” Bonnie reminded him shortly. “Dress shopping. Do you want to come?”

“Ha, ha,” he said dryly. “I’ll pass. Have fun.”

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” Grace called after them as they headed down the hall.

Bonnie turned and beamed at their assistant. “Yeah, thanks, Grace. Have a good one yourself. Make sure you don’t stay too late.”

Grace frowned, the expression sat wrong on her delicate features. “Not like you to say something like that,” she muttered. 

“Her new roommate is a bad influence,” Rob told Grace brightly. 

“Was that the young lady you were here with yesterday, miss?”

Bonnie sighed and cast a scowl at Rob who didn’t even have the presence of mind to look abashed. “Yes, that was her. And she’s… Ok, yeah, Marceline is a bad influence. Deal with it. See you later, Grace.”

“I don’t even know why you’d bother trying to deny it,” Rob murmured as they rode the elevator to the parking lot. “She’s done awful things to you, Elle. All kinds of things. It’s like you disappeared into a little cocoon and popped out some weird, malformed butterfly…”

“Thanks for that image, Rob. Charming. I disagree though; most of the things that have changed aren’t awful.” He lifted an eyebrow in askance. Bracing herself for a full on debate, she pointed out, “I spend more time with my friends – and you – thanks to her. I work less, I’m less stressed. I’m _happy_ , Robert.” The elevator _dnnnged_ and spat them out into the cool of the car park. “How can that be considered bad?”

He raised hands in supplication. “Fine, alright, you win this round. She has done all those things.” Rob grabbed her elbow and peered into her eyes. “Are you really happy, Elle?”

Again, that twanging feeling in her stomach made her stop and think. Her heart picked up speed for no apparent reason and she was forced to actually consider the implications he was trying to make. “Yes,” she eventually whispered. “I am. Very happy.”


	24. Gotta Have A Little Faith

It was, in the most ordinary way possible, ludicrously hot. The sun glared down at her as she stood in a slither of mediocre shade just outside Dillory’s. If Rain didn’t hurry up she was going to find a nice air-conditioned niche inside and wait there.

 _So much for that rain_ , she thought sourly, blinking balefully at the sky. Bonnie didn’t like the rain, but neither was she overly fond of the sun. It was a fine line to walk and, given the bi-polar nature of Australian weather patterns, not very promising.

“Morning, Elle,” Rain piped, appearing at her elbow. “You ready?”

Bonnie waved a hand out, indicating the doors. “After you.” Rain laughed and headed inside. “So what’s Jake doing today anyway?”

“Hanging out with Finn and – I believe – Marshall. It’s possible Bee will be joining them. But I didn’t ask questions. So long as he’s busy, I don’t mind.”

“Brave statement. What if he was secretly running some kind of mafia in his spare time?”

Rain rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, Jake is _just_ that sort of person. Can you see him dressed in a pin striped suit toting a semi-automatic machine pistol? Honestly.”

Bonnie would admit it was hard to see Jake being quite that wild. “Alright, fair enough. But still, you don’t ask him anything?”

“I ask him how his day was.” She stopped to rifle through a rack of tangerine skirts. “And he tells me. He does have a job you know. He doesn’t spend all his time doing nothing but hang out with Finn.”

“Oh, I know that.”

“Well, what about you?”

“What about me?”

Rain pursed her lips and shot Bonnie a very well executed ‘don’t play the ignorance card with me, little missy’ expression. “What’s Marceline do in her spare time? How did you manage to ditch her today?”

Bonnie grinned. “We _aren’t_ joined at the hip, you know. She went to her cousin’s place. They have a band. When she’s not doing… work… other assorted ‘Marceline’ things that I don’t really want to know about, she’s practicing. She’s not very mysterious you know.”

Fingers running across the lace edge of a turquoise dress, Rain froze to peer curiously at Bonnibel. “Wait… I know she plays music but… She has a job? I would never have guessed that of her.”

Her smile widening somewhat, knowing exactly how Rain would react to what she was about to say, Bonnie let a green embroidered dress clatter back to the rack. “She has _two_ jobs, Rain. She works at that music store during the week and at a restaurant as a cook on the weekends. Despite what Marceline tells people, she actually _isn’t_ a no-hoper.”

Rain nearly dropped the dress in her hands. “ _Two_ jobs? I take back everything I said. _You’re_ the bad influence here, Elle.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Jake works extra shifts on the weekends. And Finn goes straight from university every single day to a part time job that keeps him up till eight in the evening. Heck, you worked nonstop when we were at uni. It’s not unusual.”

“Hmph,” Rain grunted thoughtfully. “I… suppose that’s true. What do you think of this one?” She held up a navy dress with a round neckline and ruffled bell-sleeves. 

“Not as vibrant as your usual fare, is it?” Bonnie asked teasingly.

“This is your mother’s party,” her friend replied flatly. “I have a feeling a fluoro green dress with yellow trimming might be a bit much.”

“Sure, that’s your excuse. It’s totally not because you want to blend in and pretend you aren’t really there is it?”

“Why would I try to hide at a party?” Rain slung the hanger back onto the rung. “If I wanted to avoid your mother’s attention, I just wouldn’t go,” she pointed out, pausing to inspect a dress in a rather lurid shade of pink. With one finger she lifted the dress up to show Bonnie and joked, “Your colour, yeah, Elle?”

She glanced at the dress briefly, _Bit much, don’t you think, Rain_? And she shook her head. Normally she’d wear a pink dress, something casual without being too casual. Not this year. This year was going to be a wrecking ball in a china shop anyway, no need to add insult to injury. “Pass on that one, Rain. Thanks though.” A thought occurred to her and she spent a twitchy moment chewing her lip, debating whether or not to even ask. Then, “Why _are_ you going to the party, Rain? You know it’ll be an utter catastrophe.”

Rain’s eyes widened as she turned to look at Bonnie. “Why would it be a catastrophe? What are you… oh… You’re going to tell your parents about Marceline, aren’t you?”

Bonnie nodded. “That’s the plan. I could chicken out I suppose, but I probably won’t. I would almost be willing to put money on my mother inviting some _strategically_ single guys who have _perfectly_ legitimate reasons to be there. Almost.”

“They do it every year, I don’t see why this Christmas will be any different,” Rain agreed slowly. “Hey, how’s Rob doing on that front?” 

_So much tact, Rain. Smooth topic change _, she thought wryly. _But still rather blunt_. And that was Rain’s way: to the point but polite. Rain had never bothered to dress up her words or veil touchy questions in niceties and pomp. It was refreshing when so many people Bonnie knew were adept at dancing around the truth and lying through their teeth. A little direct honesty never hurt anyone.__

__“I am unsure, actually,” she admitted. “He hasn’t been seeing anyone that I’m aware of, but speaking from experience, having an Abadeer as a roommate can be quite taxing. And Marshall is a needy fellow; it’s possible he just hasn’t had the time.” Bonnie had stopped by a dress the colour of the ocean on a rainy day, it was somewhat green and somewhat blue and somewhat grey and somewhat shimmery making all the colours dance and bleed together as it moved. It had a nice effect; she splayed her fingers over the soft fabric, thoughtful. Rain opened her mouth, but Bonnie already knew what she was going to say. “Don’t bring up Bianca,” she interjected softly. “Don’t do it, Rain. I know you want him to be happy, but please… don’t try and set them up. It never works.” _And you should know that better than anyone else by now_._ _

__Rain’s teeth clicked as she shut her mouth. “I wasn’t going to suggest setting them up,” she grumbled. But Bonnibel could tell she was lying. Rain was a sucktastic liar, almost as craptacular as Bonnie was. “They have so much in common though… Don’t tell me you don’t think they wouldn’t be great together.”_ _

__Now Bonnie fixed her closest friend with the best approximation of a glare that she could manage. “Bee also has a lot in common with Marshall, and with Jake _and_ with Finn. You could pick any one of them. But don’t do it. If it happens, it happens. Just let them do their own thing, Rain…. Please?”_ _

__Her friend sighed. “You have a point there I just can’t argue with.” Rain’s eyes flicked to the dress Bonnie was still fiddling with. “Are you going to fondle it all day or will you try it on?”_ _

__“Only if you stop _groping_ that one and do the same,” Bonnie replied dryly but with a tempering smile. Rain had been running her fingertips along the lace neckline of one bottle green dress for the duration of their conversation. It wasn’t what she’d normally wear, definitely not, but that wasn’t really the point._ _

__Rain laughed and lifted the dress from its rail, already weaving through the racks towards the change rooms. Five minutes later, they’d both changed into their dresses, twisted before the mirrors with pursed lips, mentally debated whether or not they liked them and exasperatingly decided they needed another opinion. Despite the fact that Rain didn’t normally wear such subdued colours (vibrant, rainbow vomit was much more her style) the deep green looked lovely on her. And with its leafy, lemon-lime embroidery around the neck and hem, it was pretty extraordinary really. Bonnie canted her head, thinking that the dark dress looked good in combination with her blonde hair. It needed a belt though. Once Rain was satisfied with her ensemble, she grinned at Bonnie, twirling one finger, requesting Bonnie turn for her. With a groan, she did so._ _

__“I like the blue, Elle,” Rain observed softly. “Pretty dark though. Sure you want to run with that?”_ _

__“Says she in the deepest green in the shop,” Bonnie replied. “Besides, you have already pointed out that this will be a serious Christmas, with lots of glaring and judging and so forth. A little bit less flair can’t go wrong really.” The skirt of her dress was calculatingly creased, almost-but-not-quite-pleats whirling about every time she moved. It did look just like the ocean._ _

__“And you want to fly under the radar too,” Rain added cheekily. “Don’t lie.” She glanced over her shoulder at the cashier. “Let’s buy them and grab lunch.”_ _

__Bonnie nodded. _And I do have work to do today. Nearly Christmas or not, I promised… I will work out how to fix Simon_._ _

__Bags dangling from their fingertips, they exited Dillory’s and Rain turned to find a nice restaurant at which they could eat. Bonnie, though, caught a glimpse of bleached white hair and black combat boots and spun the other way. Not that way._ _

__“Come on, Rain,” she said. “I know a nice place over this way a little.” Cake, she cursed to herself. _What the truffles is Ash doing here? I thought he only stalked Marceline_!_ _

__Calm. She took a deep breath as Rain fell in beside her. Steady breathing and calm. He wasn’t following her. No, of course not. There had to be another perfectly plausible proof for his presence._ _

__“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Elle,” Rain noted with one eyebrow lifted in concern. “You okay?”_ _

__She nodded briskly. “Yeah… just…” Bonnie forced a wan smile across her face. “I’m fine. Come on, let’s get lunch.”_ _

__

__\----------------------------------_ _

__

__The lab was still cold, but it was a refreshing cold given the sweltering heat outside. Not a dry heat either, it was clammy, like breathing through a sopping sponge. Everything felt damp and hot and it was gross. To be perfectly honest, the sterile cool of the lab was kind of welcome._ _

__The grainy feel to the backs of her eyes was not, however. _And god, that’s how headaches start_ , she grumbled, rubbing her temples. She opened one eye, peering through her glasses, lenses blurred with dust, wondering if she’d left her water bottle here. Yes, it was sitting in the ice box, how decidedly odd. With a frustrated sigh, she slouched over and drained the plastic bottle._ _

___You know what you have to do next_ , she told herself, trying to find a bit of courage somewhere deep down. Staring at the results of the brain scans was depressing. They were as flawless as the blood tests had been. There was nothing wrong. At all. All she’d been able to find were those strange glowing molecules. _They’re completely bizarre, you’ve never seen anything like them and there’s absolutely and there’s only one person you can ask for help_. She took a deep breath and left the lab._ _

__The door beeped behind her, locking itself. It required a key-card to gain access and so far as she knew, only two people had one: herself and Hunter. Cleaners weren’t even allowed in, just to be safe. She took the small elevator at the back, the best one to use if she didn’t want to be seen. When she stepped out onto the thirty-second floor she blinked a few times in surprise._ _

__The hallway looked different… As if the whole floor had been rearranged. Hesitantly, very aware that her visit could go horribly wrong, Bonnie followed the corridor along and around a corner, ending up in a small open space like a waiting room, complete with desk and padded green chairs. How incredibly unusual._ _

__Behind the desk sat a thrall, not one she knew. This one was a young woman in a dark suit with pale skin and hair almost as black as Marceline’s. She smiled at Bonnie as she entered._ _

__“Please have a seat, miss,” the thrall told her. “Hunter is in a meeting and will be out shortly.”_ _

__She tried to smile back, but all she managed was a somewhat bemused grimace. “Thank… you,” Bonnie said and sank down into a green chair in the corner. _What even is going on here? A building can’t just rearrange itself like this. It’s not possible_._ _

___Oh, sure, not possible_ , some other less logical part of her mind muttered. _Except that Hunter is the vampire overlord or something. Everything about the place is magical. Why shouldn’t he be able to change things up now and then_?_ _

__She shook her head, refusing to argue with herself; that bordered on crazy. Instead, Bonnie occupied her befuddled brain with observing the ceiling. It hadn’t changed since the last time she’d been here… she didn’t think. But the walls had. They were no longer the subtly terrifying wooden mosaic they had been. Now they were rough-hewn stone. Even the carpet seemed different, a deep violet now and thicker… wait… had the floor even _had_ carpet last time? Either way, the spell from before that had made her want to flee as fast as her feet could carry her was gone. Perhaps that was for a reason…? Bonnie made a mental note to ask Marceline._ _

__Just as the thrall promised, a door to her right banged open a few short minutes later. Spewed from the room within were a livid Ash and a smilingly composed Hunter. Ash didn’t even see her sitting there for the first few moments, his icy eyes flashed menacingly as he spun to glare at the other man._ _

__“I don’t get it,” Ash spluttered. “How can you say that? You’re _denying_ her something she needs.”_ _

__Hunter exhaled and rubbed the heel of one palm across his forehead. “I have spent a long time trying to get Marceline to do the things I thought were good for her. This is the very first time we have ever agreed on what that might entail,” he said quietly. He didn’t seem too concerned by the fire in the younger man’s eyes. “I have discussed this with her, Kelly,” he went on. “I will not meddle here.”_ _

__“Except to say you won’t have me around anymore.”_ _

__“Correct.”_ _

__Ash threw his hands up. “You’re… you’re so _wrong_. How can you stand around while she makes such awful decisions?”_ _

__Hunter’s eyes flicked for the merest of moments to Bonnie before returning to Ash. “She is happy, Kelly. _Without_ you. Learn to live with that and move on.”_ _

___Are they… talking about Marceline_? Duh they were talking about Marceline. Who else would Ash be making such a fuss about?_ _

__“You’ve never had that opinion before,” Ash growled, eyes narrowing, one finger levelled at Hunter. “You always said she needed this, something tempering to… to… balance her out. What’s all this rubbish now about letting her make this choice herself?”_ _

__Once again, Hunter’s gaze flittered Bonnie’s way. “She made the right decision this time, Kelly,” Hunter replied lowly, evidently hoping Bonnie wouldn’t hear. “And… _bizarre_ though her choice might seem on the surface, I will support her this time.” His words held something else, regret perhaps? A sense of some past wrong? It was strange, like he was… like he was letting go._ _

__“Bah!” Ash exclaimed, prodding Hunter in the chest with his finger. “You’re getting sentimental and romantic in your old age. You would never have let this happen before. Trying to hold on to the past can’t save you.” He stepped back slightly, hands now balled into fists. He seemed to debate something for a moment before speaking in a dark voice full of threats and violence, “If you’re hiding something that can save me, Abadeer, I’ll end you. Know that.”_ _

__Ash turned then and finally noticed Bonnie, wide eyed and frozen, in her chair. His eyes became slits again, mouth opening slightly in confusion. Before he could speak, though, Hunter addressed her softly, “Miss Bonnibel.” It took a great deal of effort to wrench her eyes from Ash and look at Hunter._ _

__“Yes, sir?”_ _

__“You have a question for me?”_ _

__Her eyes darted to Ash. “I do. I’m not sure anyone else can help me. I don’t even know where to start.” She sighed._ _

__Hunter motioned to his door. “Science is not my area of expertise, but you have my ear.” She scurried through to his office, shoulders hunched under Ash’s leer. “Go home, Kelly,” Hunter said to the young wizard (does he really count as young if he’s thousands of years old?). “And stop pestering Marceline. Accept that she has made a choice and let her be. Who knows, maybe you will find yourself happy too.”_ _

__“Trust me,” Ash snarled in a way Bonnie found quite menacing. “She’s not happy. She can’t be happy. It’s a delusion she’s found, nothing more.”_ _

__“Let her live it,” Hunter replied, pulling the door closed. “Delusion or not, she is happy. Do not interfere.” The door clicked. “How can I help you this wonderfully muggy afternoon, Bonnibel?”_ _

__She sank into the leather guest chair and sighed. “I’ve found something,” she admitted. “I don’t know what it is. It’s not human; I can’t identify it or do anything to it. It didn’t show up in any of the tests I had your technicians run. Nothing. It doesn’t exist. But it’s there. I can _see_ it.” She looked up into his eyes. “It’s… it’s magical.”_ _

___Maybe magic_ isn’t _just science we don’t understand_ , she thought to herself. _But I will find out what this thing is. I will understand it_._ _

__Hunter laced his fingers together on the table. “Is it related to the madness do you suppose?”_ _

__“Indubitably. But I haven’t got a clue how to remove it. And even if I did, I don’t know what the side-effects would be.”_ _

__He lifted an eyebrow. “How did you find this in… what… a fortnight?”_ _

__“Educated guessing.”_ _

__“And what would you have me do?”_ _

__She sighed. “I don’t know,” she conceded. “I just want to know if it’s possible to remove the molecules from their places. If they _can_ be removed, then _theoretically_ I can… ‘delete’ them from the blood entirely.”_ _

__“So it was not in the brain as you thought?”_ _

__“No,” she shook her head slowly, pondering. “I… I believe these molecules are what are behind the madness… but…”_ _

__“But you think they do something else as well.” It wasn’t a question. Hunter was observant._ _

__Bonnie nodded. “Possibly. I will admit I know very little about… you people and what you can do. But this… this is connected, I can feel it. I just have to know.”_ _

__Hunter regarded her silently for a moment. Perhaps trying to ascertain her sincerity, her dedication, her resolve. Finally, a smile crinkled his lips and he pushed his chair back, standing, evidently satisfied with whatever his supernatural eyes had found._ _

__“Very well,” he said. “Let us see what we can do.”_ _

__Bonnie was so excited that she set rather a swift pace back to the lab and spent the whole trip down in the elevator twitching nervously. She pointed at a slide she’d left set up so he could see the molecules she was talking about. Hunter bent over the microscope and blinked through the lens._ _

__“Those orange ones and the unusual ones, sir,” she told him. “I don’t understand them or their function. It’s as if… they _resist_ study.” She didn’t ask if he could do anything to them; that was impromptu and rude. Instead she stood as patiently as she could and waited._ _

__Eventually he straightened, rubbing his chin. “I see what you mean,” he mused. “And you think they are the reason for the madness in Simon?”_ _

__She bobbed her head. “More or less. It’s highly probably they are the reason wizards in general go mad. Ideally, I’d run tests to find out what happens in a living subject when they’re removed.” Bonnie glanced at him sidelong. “I suppose that’s off the table though.”_ _

__He chuckled. “Indeed it is.”_ _

___Lucky I’m so good at the theory then_ , she grouched. “Getting it right the first time will be tough. And the results will need to stay permanent. There are no guarantees here, sir.”_ _

__Hunter sighed. “I am very aware of that. To be perfectly honest with you, I did not even suspect you would find something such as this to connect to the madness. For centuries we have merely believed it was inevitable.” He rubbed his chin with one finger again. “Perhaps… Do you have notes on your findings so far?”_ _

__“Of course.” She indicated the notebook on the desk. He flipped through the pages, eyes reading much faster than she could._ _

__“Ah,” he breathed, tapping a finger to the page. “Here. This observation of yours.” Bonnie peeked around his elbow at what he’d found. It was a diagram, a question and a formula. “Polarity. I did observe a charge to the molecules. This might be feasible.”_ _

__“I don’t know what that charge is, sir,” Bonnie argued. “But dialysis seemed more likely to solve the problems.”_ _

__“No,” Hunter disagreed. “That is not what I meant. The molecules had a charge, they were communicating with each other. Dialysis would not work, or would not be a permanent solution at any rate. However, disrupting their channels might neutralise them.”_ _

___Oh. I hadn’t thought of that_. She cursed herself silently. Neutralising them made perfect sense. _If_ she could find a way to do it of course._ _

__“Do I need a chemistry set for this,” Bonnie queried as politely as she could when she was so full of sarcasm. “Or an iron cauldron?”_ _

__Hunter only chortled good naturedly. “The chemistry set should suffice. Let me do the magical part, you focus on this.” He scrawled a few notes in the margin of her notebook and looked at her questioningly._ _

__“Seems too easy,” she opined. “Shouldn’t this be harder?”_ _

__He smiled. “I would have thought the same, only you are a good deal brighter than any other scientist I have encountered. I am thoroughly convinced that you can do this.”_ _

__“But the theory,” she complained. “It’s too simplistic. Too straightforward. We’re dealing with magic, Mr Abadeer. Shouldn’t there be something a _little_ bit more complex? Curing a magical ailment with science should be harder… right?”_ _

__“Sometimes, the best solution to a problem is the easiest,” he replied cryptically. “Let us get on with this.”_ _

__The afternoon faded slowly as they worked. At first, Bonnie wasn’t convinced Hunter was doing anything, but then a whip of bluish light surged from his fingers and disappeared into the solution she was preparing. It scared the life out of her… Figuratively, of course. Several more times she saw something inexplicable appear that would then vanish into the chemicals. Once it was a burst of orange sparks, another time a pile of what looked like black powder, a third time it was something like icicles only a luminescent green that reminded her of moss. At one point, she thought she could see sharks in one of her beakers, which was disconcerting to say the least._ _

__Sometime very late in the afternoon – 4.28 if her watch was to be believed and her bleary eyes weren’t convinced it could be trusted – the formula was inserted to one of the machines. She hadn’t been able to identify the purpose of this particular contraption, but Hunter assured her it was useful. It whirred away behind them while Bonnie slumped across the table, pillowing her head in her arms and taking the chance to close her eyes. Hunter lounged in a chair, head tilted back to rest against the cushion. Outside, it had started to rain again, the soft tapping threatening to whisk her off to sleep._ _

__“Knock, knock,” said a familiar voice at the door. Bonnie lifted her head tiredly as Marceline entered hesitantly. As before, she refused to look at anything. Although her eyes widened when she realised her father was there. She slid up onto the table beside Bonnie. “How’s it going, little brainiac?” She said it fondly, fingers fiddling with Bonnie’s hair._ _

__“Tired,” she said around a yawn. “Your dad and I have been busy all day.”_ _

__“You ready to go home?”_ _

__Bonnie lifted a sluggish finger and pointed it at the machine. “When it beeps, we can go.” Having Marceline’s fingers in her hair was ridiculously soothing; she could practically feel her body shutting down._ _

__“You ready for your mother’s party tomorrow?” Marceline spoke quietly, but the words jerked Bonnie back to wakefulness anyway._ _

__“Ugh,” she groaned. “No. Are you?”_ _

__Marceline beamed at her. “Why yes I am.” She removed her hand from Bonnie’s head as she sat up, tapping the back of Bonnie’s hand with one long finger instead. “You should cheer up. It won’t be that bad.”_ _

__“You underestimate their ability to destroy things.”_ _

__Marceline leaned down to whisper, “They’re not that bad, Bon. You’re just melodramatic.”_ _

__Before Bonnie could reply, the machine _ppnnnngggd_ softly and she jerked to her feet. “Give me one minute to get this sorted and we can go.” She extracted two vials of greenish liquid from the front of the machine and headed off to the other side of the room. It took her only a minute to place one in the fridge. She snapped up her notes on the way back and poked Hunter in the shoulder. _ _

__He sat up, startled. “Is it done then?”_ _

__Bonnie nodded and proffered the vial and her notes. “Given the sensitive nature of this,” she said slowly. “Would you be so kind as to store them somewhere they won’t be stolen?”_ _

__Hunter arched an eyebrow and took the items slowly. “I can most certainly do this. Do you think they might be stolen?”_ _

__She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But with Ash in town… It might be best to play it incredibly safe. Just in case.”_ _

__He nodded. “Wise words, Miss Bonnibel. I will take care of it.”_ _

__“Thank you for your help, sir. I’m going home now.”_ _

__Hunter peered around Bonnie and smiled at Marceline. “Do stop by on Christmas, would you?”_ _

__Marceline gave a mock salute. “Whatever you say, boss. Come on, Bon. Let’s bounce.”_ _

__“What’s for dinner?” Bonnie asked as she unlocked the door to their apartment. It had been nice to sleep in her bed. It was nice all around to know a crazy wizard wasn’t going to blast in her windows._ _

__All she got in response was a grin. Marceline refused to answer her, even once they made it inside. She just kept smiling. Once Bonnie had – wearing a concerned frown the whole time – deposited her things in her room, showered and returned to the kitchen, she stopped. The table, miraculously kept clean since Marceline had moved in, now had a green embroidered white tablecloth, woven stainless steel mats and bone plates with gold embossing._ _

__Her jaw dropped. On the plates was food – _home freaking cooked_ food, she noted. Grilled salmon, lemon and assorted vegetables as well as a sauce she couldn’t identify. Bonnie lifted her eyes to Marceline’s still beaming face._ _

__“You did this?” she asked, not quite believing it._ _

__“Yup.”_ _

__“In _that_ kitchen?”_ _

__“The very same.”_ _

__“Why?”_ _

__Marceline let out a breath. “Because you were so stressed and worried and all… _floopy_ about your mother’s do tomorrow.” She shrugged. “Just trying to get you to relax, you know? Plus I have a feeling that no matter how nice your mother’s catering is, you won’t enjoy it.”_ _

__Bonnie sank slowly into a chair, staring at the food, then up at Marceline, who was standing across the table with a tentative smile. Her fingers fiddled absently with the edge of the tablecloth while her brain sought for some suitable response to that. None immediately came to mind and the smile on Marceline’s face faded as she stepped around to sit next to Bonnie._ _

__“No good, huh?” she asked, quietly, face very serious of a sudden._ _

__“No,” Bonnie replied quietly, shaking her head. “I just… didn’t expect it.” Now she looked back at Marceline and smiled softly. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”_ _

__That tentative smile flickered alight on Marceline’s face again. “Really?”_ _

__Leaning over, Bonnie wrapped her arms around Marceline. “Really,” she whispered. She felt tension leave the other woman’s shoulders and she sighed._ _

__Shaking her head slightly, Marceline pulled away. “Let’s eat. Then movie.”_ _

__Smiling, Bonnie agreed. Inane conversation and perhaps a rather improbable action movie were all she needed to take her mind off the party tomorrow. And Marceline had long since proven adept at distracting her. It didn’t even take her hours to fall asleep that evening. She’d anticipated lying awake to all hours of the night, worrying, but she didn’t have so much as a bad dream._ _

__If only the same could be said for the day._ _


	25. A Good Kind Of Trouble

“Geez, take a chill pill.”

Bonnie didn’t stop tapping her nails on the table though, and she couldn’t stop bouncing and she couldn’t stop panicking. Marceline sat down at the table across from her and covered her hands up with her own to stop the clicking. Bonnie turned her wide eyes up to her roommate and looked away again quickly. For once that blinding smile didn’t reassure her like it should.

“Bon, please just relax,” Marceline whispered. “Nothing bad is going to happen. I solemnly swear.”

“You really shouldn’t make a girl a promise if you can’t keep it, Marceline,” Bonnie murmured. She tried to extract her hands and resume her tapping but Marceline was so much stronger than she was. It was an effort of futility.

“Take a deep breath. Think about something else. Please?” Marceline paused, perhaps waiting for Bonnie to think of that something else, perhaps hoping she’d calm down on her own. Neither happened. “What are your other friends doing for Christmas? Will they be there this evening?”

“Rain and Jake will be,” Bonnie affirmed. “I’m not sure about Finn; I think he’s going to a party with the guys from his college class. We’ll all probably do something tomorrow.”

“Robert will be there, yeah?”

She nodded.

Marceline pursed her lips. “You’re not making this easy, Bonnibel. Help me out here.”

Bonnie chewed her lip in thought. No matter what crossed her mind, in the end, it always spiralled back to her parents. She could see their reactions already, knew exactly what they’d say, exactly what they’d do. There would be a great deal of yelling.

 _Stop it_ , her inner voice cried. _Stop thinking about it. Listen to Marceline. She’s actually being intelligent for once. Take a deep breath and calm down. This is nothing. Nothing. No different to when you told them you didn’t want to go to business school._

And she listened to it. Except that telling her parents she didn’t want to go to business school had been quite a dramatic fiasco as well. That wasn’t really the point. She took a deep breath.

“What’s your family doing for Christmas, Marceline?” she asked as she exhaled.

A tight smile curled Marceline’s mouth. She knew Bonnie wasn’t really relaxed, this was all for show. A duck on a pond; calm on the surface, kicking like crazy underneath. “We’ll probably have lunch,” Marceline informed her slowly, squeezing her hands. “Pretty boring, but we haven’t celebrated Christmas properly in a good long while now. Heck, I don’t think I’ve bought Marshall a present in a few hundred years.”

She bobbed her head absently. That was pretty much how the whole morning passed by. Oh, it crawled, every minute taking at least a few thousand years, but it did pass. A few times, Marceline even managed to distract her properly. With music or a movie or just by getting a little too close, she was quite excellent at side-tracking Bonnie, a gift that hadn’t been appreciated until this moment. She refused to eat lunch. No matter how much Marceline tried to convince her otherwise, Bonnie was pretty sure she’d never keep a meal down anyway. An apple was all her roommate could get her to consume, it didn’t make her feel any better, but at least she wouldn’t be hungry when she spoke to her parents.

Reluctantly, Bonnie got changed into that shimmery dress that couldn’t quite decide what colour it wanted to be. Then she sat at the kitchen table, put her head in her hands and sighed. She didn’t want to go; she didn’t want to tell them anything. All she wanted was to pretend it didn’t matter and let them exist without ever being informed.

“Hey, Bonnie,” Marceline said quietly from the door to the living room. “We should go or we’ll be late. I know how you feel about punctuality and all that.”

“We could leave in an hour and still be on time,” she grumbled.

“Yes, but your parents expect you earlier. You know that. Come on.” She stepped over to Bonnie and pulled her gently to her feet. Marceline’s brown eyes filled her vision and the other woman smiled. “Don’t be silly, now, Bon. You can do this. It’s Christmas. There will be lots of happiness, alright?”

“I feel sick,” was all she could say.

Marceline brushed hair from her face and cupped her cheek. “Hey. It will be fine, okay? Everything will go smoothly and your parents will yell and argue just like you expect. Unless you don’t want to tell them I suppose, in which case none of that will happen.”

Bonnie’s eyes widened, surprised by that last bit. “You… you won’t tell them?”

The smile she got for that made her heart stutter. “Of course not. They’re your parents. I’d be a right bitch if I told them and you weren’t ready. I’m a lot of things, Bon, but I’m not a bitch.” Marceline kissed her cheek. “Let’s go,” she whispered, stepping away.

It was only then that Bonnie registered what she was wearing and her eyes pretty much fell out of her head. “What… What are you wearing?” she spluttered.

Marceline laughed. “Do you like it?” she asked far too sweetly. It was a dress. _A dress_. Marceline was wearing a _dress_ of all things. Black, of course, with a red sash around the waist, but otherwise a very simple thing. The inside of the dress was red too and it appeared to be layered, strips of red cloth showing around the neckline and sleeves as well, even the ruffles under the skirt peeked through a bright crimson. It came to her knees and below that she wore black tights and knee high red boots. Bonnie grimaced, naturally the red boots.

“You know it’s uncanny for you to wear this in the heat, right?” Bonnie asked, pointing to the boots. Marceline stuck her tongue out. “Not the reaction you wanted then?” Bonnie teased. She smiled; a proper smile this time. Curious. “You look very nice.”

Marceline huffed, frowning. “You say ‘nice’ a lot. Is that code for something, Bonnibel?”

“Sure. Code for ‘nice’.” She offered a hand. “You were the one who wanted to go. Shall we?”

Sighing, rolling her eyes, Marceline exhaled, “Fine.” She took Bonnie’s hand though.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped overnight. It had ripped quite a squall through the city, but left in the wee hours of the morning leaving everything smelling clean, fresh. A cool tang whispered through the air, not at all like Christmas usually felt, but it was better than the muggy heat that usually accompanied her drive to her parents’ place.

“Why _are_ you wearing a dress, Marceline?” Bonnie asked not long into the drive. Her friend had plugged her little musical device into the stereo mere moments earlier and was now browsing for a tune she liked the look of.

“Hum?” she asked, not looking up. “Oh, the dress. Yes well… Seemed like a good idea.” Marceline shrugged. “What with your anal retentive parents, a possibly nuclear revelation and the general atmosphere the rich people bring to these things, I figured it might be a good idea to dress a little better than usual. Plus it’ll give Lucy something to talk about.”

That was a valid answer. The rest of the trip passed mostly in silence. A few times they conversed briefly on one topic or other and on several occasions Marceline turned up the radio to blare a song and sing along. Bonnie didn’t mind so much, it was amusing. Once, Marceline slapped her knee to draw her attention to the song playing, but other than that, silence it was. Except for the radio of course.

“Hey,” Marceline said sharply, noting where they were. “Did we drive past that place last time?” She twisted in her seat to peer behind them. “ _Why_ didn’t we stop _there_ before?” she whined. “They have the _best_ ice-cream in the whole world.”

“I think you’re over exaggerating,” Bonnie replied, taking the turn off to her parents’ neighbourhood. “Hardly the whole world.”

Marceline laughed. “You forget who you’re talking to, Bon. Vampire, remember? Been around a while, seen a lot of ice-cream parlours.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Those guys,” she opined, “make the best ice-cream I’ve ever eaten.”

“We’ll stop on the way home then. Although they may not be open the day before Christmas.”

“We can still check?”

Bonnie nodded. “Sure.”

“Excellent. Wow, lots of people are here, huh,” Marceline noted as they pulled into her mother’s drive. “Good thing it’s a long driveway. Where do they all go?”

“The back yard is pretty big if you recall,” Bonnie muttered. “They’ll have set up pavilions I dare say. Possibly the hall.”

“Hall?”

“It’s a demountable,” Bonnie explained. “They keep it stored at the church for most of the year and pull it out for special occasions. It’s not very fancy, but they’ll have dressed it up.”

Marceline’s jaw lolled open. “Your parents own an assemble-it-yourself _building_. Holy flying spongecake, Bonnie. Your parents are… wow, crazy.”

“Pretty much. Told you they like to be a little bit extreme.” She turned the car off but didn’t let go of the steering wheel.

Marceline rested one hand on Bonnie’s arm. “Hey.” She glanced over at her friend; Marceline’s eyes were full of warmth and concern. “It’ll be alright. Take a deep breath, one thing at a time, yeah? I’m here. And you don’t have to say a thing to them if you don’t want.”

As if she really had that choice. Of course she had to tell her parents. She’d promised. Bonnie got out of the car, Marceline following suit with a wary look in her eye. The kind of look one gets when a friend mentions casually what it might be like to go skydiving with a faulty parachute. 

“Good afternoon, Bonnibel,” Manfred boomed. He stood in the archway leading to the back of the house in a black suit, wrap-around sunglasses concealed his eyes and his blonde hair was cut shorter than she remembered. He was getting on in years though; it was possible he cut it shorter now to conceal baldness. He threw out his arms and Bonnie hugged him.

“It’s good to see you, Manfred,” she told him honestly. He was in charge of security at her parents’ functions and had been since she was only small. She vaguely recalled him giving her rides on his broad shoulders to keep her occupied before a party got underway. He was the one who’d taught her rudimentary martial arts. She hadn’t displayed much talent, but had persisted with it long enough to be capable of defending herself.

“How have you been, dear?” he asked gently. As gently as a rockslide could anyway. He pulled a clipboard from his coat pocket and put a cross beside her name, marking her as in attendance.

“Very well, thank you. It’s been an… interesting year, what with Rob moving out and getting a new roommate and all that,” she told him. “But it’s been pretty good. No complaints.” _No sir, not a single one_.

He chuckled and it was like an earthquake. “That’s good to hear.” Manfred nodded over her shoulder at Marceline who smiled blindingly at him. Good thing he was wearing sunglasses. “Who’s this then?”

“My roommate, Marceline. Dad said he’d mark her down as invited, but if it didn’t happen, consider her my plus one.”

Manfred scanned the list (or she assumed he did, it was hard to tell with his eyes hidden). He rolled his lip under. “Mmmm… oh yes here. Marceline Abadeer?” He looked up as he spoke her name.

“That’s me,” Marceline sang, sliding closer. “How about that, Bon, eh? Your dad actually _did_ invite me.”

She sighed. “It would seem he did,” she muttered earning a raised eyebrow from Manfred. Marceline stepped up beside her and stuck out a hand. Carefully – and Bonnie imagined he looked her up and down judgementally – he took it in his own giant paw and shook it.

“Pleasure to meet you, guard captain fellow,” Marceline said cheerily, throwing on her English accent at the end. Manfred huffed but couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his weathered face. “I’d hate to be crashing a party you’re bouncing,” she informed him. “I dare say you throw quite a punch.”

Manfred rumbled a laugh. “I make a point of not punching the guests,” he replied. “Even the uninvited ones.”

Marceline threw Bonnie a pointed look. “Good to know,” she said, still smiling.

“Bonnibel, good of you to join us.” Her father emerged from the front of the house burdened with a large sack and he locked the door behind himself awkwardly. He shifted the weight, hauling the sack by its cords up onto his shoulder, grunting a little at the effort. Then he turned, heading their way, staggering only slightly under the weight. “Oh and Marceline is here too,” he said happily. “Good to see you again, dear. Yes.” He hefted the bag again.

“Would you like some help, dad?” Bonnie asked worriedly. She stepped forward to take the sack from him but he fended her off gently.

“No thanks, love. If you’d like to help, go give your brother a hand with the Christmas tree. He’s been having a mighty hard time of it.” He gave Marceline an amused look. “Mostly thanks to Marshall’s interference I suppose.”

“Would you like me to take that, sir?” Manfred asked politely, tucking the clipboard away.

Alex hesitated only a moment before he sighed and let Manfred relieve him of his burden. “Thank you, Fred, you’re a good fellow. Just over to the pavilion. The others will put it up.”

Manfred nodded and carted the bag through to the yard as if it weighed nothing at all. Arms swinging by his sides now, Alex let out a whooshing breath and made to follow. 

“Mr B,” Marceline said before he could vanish. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He blinked. “That depends on what you consider helping.”

She smiled her blinding smile and chuckled. “I’m not my brother, Mr B. I do know how to help out.”

Alex returned her grin. “In that case, you might like to take your cooking skills into the kitchen and give Cynthia a hand. She’s been grumbling all day about the lack of hands in the kitchen but wouldn’t let anyone help out.” He shook his head. “She even turned Robert down.”

“A shocking first,” Bonnie mumbled.

As they emerged into the yard Marceline gasped. Before them, the area had been practically renovated in the month since she’d last seen it. The open space was now filled with an open sided pavilion with low hanging eaves in case of rain. Shaded sails had been set up all over the place to connect the pavilion to the main house and to provide nice places for clusters of tables and chairs that were somewhat removed from the more crowded rotunda. Spikes tipped with lights had been driven into the grass in strategic locations and little paper lanterns hung from anywhere that gave good support, the bulbs within flickering like flames and casting multi-coloured light across the lawn. Which was mostly pointless given the early hour of the afternoon, but the effect would be nice when the sun set.

“You were _not_ kidding,” Marceline breathed, staring around in wonderment. “I was pretty convinced you were just exaggerating but… no… Wow.”

Alex chuckled again. “Good to know we still have the power to impress people. Ah,” he said, pointing to a trio of young men standing on a trestle table to hook more lanterns to the eaves of the pavilion. “I’d best go help them out. If they break a lantern your mother will pop a valve.”

They stood there for a moment, mostly so Marceline could take everything in. Then, “Ok, I’m good now,” Marceline informed her. “Everything has been absorbed. Kitchen?” Bonnie pointed her up the steps to the house; her mother would be inside cooking. “Christmas tree?” Again Bonnie lifted a finger to indicate the object in question. This time at the far end of the cupola. “Gotcha. Have fun.”

Bonnie grunted earning a laugh.

She meandered through the throng of people already there towards the tree. Bonnie heard well before she saw them; Marshall had a ladder-back chair tilted precariously up onto two legs and he was standing tiptoe on the arched backrest with a large red bauble dangling from his fingertips. His tongue was pressed between his teeth, ankles rocked the chair forward slightly and he slid the cord over a branch, the chair canted slightly to one side and he threw out an arm to keep his balance, bending his knees and riding it carefully back so all four feet were on the ground. Robert was standing off to one side, wringing his hands anxiously as he watched. Bonnie knew he had no reason to fear Marshall falling, but she was worried that if the chair _did_ fall out from under him he’d end up floating and that was not something to be explained away easily.

The tree itself was a mess of tinsel, freckled with little lights and peppered all over with other assorted decorations. Slices of coloured light winked off baubles and faux-snow encrusted elves and crystals and all kinds of things. Several happy Santas smiled from within the foliage, even a baking Mrs Christmas, tray of cookies in hand. Trails of plastic beads looped across branches, pearlescent ones attempting to mimic the snow that would never fall, red strings of them wound together with golden in a spectacular imitation of a sunrise cresting the tree’s silhouette.

“Bonnie!” Marshall leaped from the chair – tilting it back, wood slipping beneath his feet – as he called to her. He skidded to a stop in front of her, grinning. “How’s it going?”

“Oh… you know… forward I guess,” she replied absently, eyeing him up and down. Garbed in a most unusual outfit, Bonnie couldn’t stop herself from staring. White collared shirt, complete with long sleeves (although the sleeves were rolled to his elbows), under a black silk vest, patterned on the back and so formal it was unfamiliar. He even sported a pair of black trousers from the legs of which peeked shoes polished and shined so Bonnie could see her reflection in their black tops. “Is that a tie?” she blurted.

His grin never slipping, Marshall informed her, “It’s Bub’s,” without even a hint of sheepishness. He did tap its red length with one thumb however, almost proud. “He got me to buy the rest, but the tie’s his.”

Now Robert, looking only a little peeved, slouched up. He slouched. Robert. Was slouching. How uncommon. He was dressed in much the same thing as Marshall; it was kind of strange, seeing them in matching clothes. Disconcerting. Robert’s tie was more of a salmon colour though and his shirt had a tinge of pink as well. Other than that though, wow, they matched.

Rob nodded at her slowly, eyes asking her all kinds of questions she couldn’t decipher. Eventually he put forth, “Good to see you here, Elle. We didn’t think you’d come.”

Marshall crossed his arms in pseudo-indignation and blew out his cheeks. “Yeah,” he whined, “You’re not even on time. What’s the deal, huh?”

Bonnie stared up at the tree, avoiding their eyes – their knowing eyes – and grumbled, “Traffic.” Robert tilted his head to one side, still with that plethora of unasked questions. He didn’t speak, but he did (after an uncomfortable moment) follow her gaze to the tree. “You don’t have a star yet,” Bonnie noted.

“Neither of us is quite tall enough to reach the top,” Robert explained with a frown at the tree’s peak. “Even with the chair. And the step ladder was commandeered a while back to hang lanterns out the front and hasn’t returned yet.”

Marshall – with a sly grin, a wink and one of those crooked sidelong glances that promised an overabundance of mischief – prompted, “I could give you a lift, Bonnie? I bet the two of us could get the star on top.”

It was slight, but Bonnie’s mouth curled down at the corners. “That’s distasteful,” she opined. She left unsaid the fact that he could, _technically_ , do it himself. He shouldn’t do that. But he might, and that worried her. “Do you have other decorations to hang?”

“No,” Rob replied. He wasn’t looking at Bonnie though, he was busy glaring red hot death at Marshall, she assumed for his previous comment. “That was the last one.”

“Hey, bro.” Marceline punched her brother in the shoulder as she flounced over to them, smiling; a stool tucked under one arm, hand wound between the legs to clutch one of the supports. “You haven’t finished yet. Come on; let’s get this star up there, yeah?” She twirled the chair up into both hands and slammed it onto the seat of the other chair hard enough to elicit quite a bang.

In a most unladylike manner, Marceline proceeded to clamber up the short stack of tilted furniture, giving her an excess of height – more than enough to top the tree. She didn’t seem to care that she was wearing a dress, but Bonnie’s previously gentle frown slowly bent into more of a scowl. Something her mother would also deem unladylike.

“Heads up,” Marshall called. He lobbed the golden star underarm up at his sister, little golden glittery motes danced in the light of the room, blinking like a multitude of yellow eyes as the star spun through the air in an arc mostly graceful and only slightly wobbly. Marceline caught it one handed and plopped it down on the leafy protrusion capping the tree, winding a cord around once, twice to bind it in place.

Then, with all of the elegance she could muster, she bounced from the chairs and flopped to solid ground, heels hitting the wood floor in a clatter. “There see,” she enthused, spinning to gaze up at the tree, fists planted on her hips, head canted to one side. “Looks much better now. Don’tcha reckon?” She ribbed Rob gently and spun her grin to his face. “Why so glum, chum? Cheer up a little, it’s Christmas.”

Marshall shook his head. “He’s been glowering like that all day,” he said sourly. Then, leaning closer to his sister to stage whisper he added, “I think he’s secretly the Grinch.”

Marceline barked a laugh and peered up at Robert, eyes crinkled in the corners with amusement. “Funny. I said the same thing about Bonnie once. Must be a family thing,” she decided. With a sharp sound, she clapped her hands together and looked back over the pavilion. “So when’s this shindig officially get underway, anyhow?”

“Is mum done in the kitchen then?” Bonnie asked her, frown fading. Somehow, she never could seem to manage a consistently disgruntled simmer when it came to Marceline. It just rolled away like water off a duck’s back.

“Yup,” she declared, leaning over to Bonnie. “She even let me ice the cake. Nice woman, your mother. Very agreeable.”

 _For now_. Bonnibel didn’t voice that though, it was defeatist and not a good way to embark on any kind of endeavour. “Sure. The… shindig,” she said it slowly and with a wry twist to her lips, “will begin as soon as mum says it does.”

“Which means,” Rob expanded, “It will start when she’s satisfied everything is perfect.”

“And of course all the guests should be in attendance,” Bonnie went on.

“Or at least most of them,” Robert concluded with a nod. “She likes to have the majority of her audience already here before anything actually happens. That said, it’s not like there’s going to be party games or anything like that. It’ll mostly just be people talking and eating and so forth.”

“Sounds boring,” Marshall decided unhappily. “What kind of party doesn’t have anything exciting to do? Rich people.” That last sounded almost like a curse… or perhaps a lamentation, or even an unfortunate marriage of the two. 

His sister concurred with a muttered, “Rich people. Who even understands their innermost mental workings? It’s a foreign place.”

Bonnie’s mouth sawed open with a piqued gasp. “Seriously?” she asked somewhat shrilly.

Marceline turned her palms out in supplication. “Cool your jets, Bon,” she said with a smile. “But your parents _do_ have a self-assemble, pre-packaged building stored and ready for deployment. And an almost-life-sized chess set. It’s weird.”

Marshall nodded. “Yeah, that’s true,” he said, smiling. “So what _do_ you do at one of these parties? Just eat cheese cubes and drink champagne or what?”

“Eat,” Marceline said happily, eyes shining. She nodded towards the stairs where Cynthia was staggering down the steps carrying a teetering tower of platters and plastic containers. “I’m gonna go help her out. Maybe she’ll give me candy.” With a flash of teeth, Marceline darted across the lawn – still being very unladylike – and relieved Cynthia of her burden.

“She is not acting like herself,” Marshall mentioned slowly. Bonnie spared him a short glance, just long enough to catch the flick of his eyes in her direction. He lowered his voice slightly, probably so Rob wouldn’t hear, and muttered, “Actually, she’s been acting out of character a good deal lately. I blame you, Bonnie.”

She shrugged. “Sure, if you want,” Bonnie replied absently, too busy concentrating on her mother and girlfriend covering the tables with food. It was almost surreal to see how they spoke to each other; not arguing, not glaring, not even frowning. She wished it would stay that way, she wished she could be sure that nothing would change, that they would continue to get on amicably, but deep down she knew that would never happen. It was only a matter of time (and a few words) before things fell out. That thought made her sad.

Marshall touched her elbow, glanced once at Rob (who was wandering over to talk to Norman who had just arrived) and then motioned to the table. Curiously, Bonnie stared at him as they crossed the grass, wondering at the serious expression he wore. Softly, and with one more glance around him, he said, “No seriously, Bonnibel. She’s been acting all over the place. I’ve never seen her try to make a good impression before. _Ever_. Marceline’s never cared what people think, this is highly abnormal behaviour.”

She blinked. “Really?” Her voice sounded funny to her ears, too high by half. Although it might have just been her heart drumming in her throat distorting the sound. “What…” Bonnie had to pause to catch her breath, swallow, still her hands. “What do you mean though? Weird how?”

“She’s… never cared before,” he explained carefully, eyes still watching to make sure he wasn’t overheard. “Never enough to… to… to _try_.” He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and growled, “I don’t know how to describe it properly. But… it’s like she wants to be liked. She never has before.” Marshall rubbed the side of his neck and huffed. “I dunno. Just different.”

“Oh… Hey, I –” 

“Bonnibel, take this for me would you,” her mother said softly, cutting across her. She waved a green salad dish, preoccupied with laying out cutlery. Gently, Bonnie relieved Cynthia of the dish, fingers splaying across the cool plastic. Hand now free, Cynthia set it to tidying the table as well. Presentation was something she was particularly pernickety about.

She turned, about to say something to Marshall, but not only was he gone (off to hinder Marceline it seemed) but she couldn’t remember what she’d been about so say anyway. Sighing, Bonnie placed the dish on one of the mats about half way down the table. It was a long table, although most people probably wouldn’t all sit at it – preferring to seat in small groups about the lawn – it was set out to accommodate the possibility.

Shockingly, the sun was already half sunk by the time the food was finished and the table was up to her mother’s exacting standards. She stared down at the tablecloth, all white lace and gold embroidery, the cutlery, the plates and cups and napkin holders all matched. Everything was coordinated and Bonnie sighed, realising that her meticulous mother had contingencies for everything. A place for everything and everything in its place.

“Bonnibel!” a voice sang behind her.

Turning she saw a purple-garbed Lucy striding under the arch. Her newest fellow, Daniel, was not two steps behind her and they weren’t the only ones just arriving. Rain and Jake meandered through after them, accompanied by Candy. Bonnie glanced down at her watch, 5.08pm it told her was the time, which made sense; all of the invites had stated a five o’clock start.

Lucy beamed at her, stopping beside Bonnie to alternate between inspecting the foods and peering at her curiously. “Hey, Elle,” she said, eyes fixing on Bonnie now, glittering sharply in the dying sunlight. “How’ve you been and all that?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, nodding a greeting to Daniel. His wall of white teeth flickered her way, genuine and good-naturedly. “Not much is new considering we only spoke a few weeks ago.”

Lucy waved a hand, collecting a plate and ladling food in generous scoops onto it. “Bah, of course there’s something new,” she proclaimed. “There is always something new. Never a day goes by that something new doesn’t happen.” She lifted a spoon and waved it for emphasis. “One just has to know where to look for it. Hello, Marceline, good to see you here.”

Marceline bounced over to them; she already had a plate in hand, her extraordinary grin slipped only for the briefest of instances before she recovered. “Why hello there, Lucy,” she chirped. “Did you think I wasn’t gonna show?”

“Didn’t expect you to get an invite more like,” Lucy said softly. Her eyes. Oh how full of knowing they were and it _scared_ Bonnie out of her mind.

Marceline laughed at that, her plate tilting to one side perilously, in danger of spilling its contents to the grass. “Ha, that wasn’t going to bother me so much, Lucy,” she said, righting her plate. “Even if Mr B hadn’t put me on the guest list, I could always come as Bonnie’s plus one.” She paused, eyes glazing as she disappeared to another plane of existence momentarily. When they snapped back to her current dimension her grin took on a darker cast and she told Lucy conspiratorially, “Or I could’ve just crashed. There was no way I wasn’t going to be here, Lucy.”

The other woman blinked, clearly not having expected that response. Before she could do more than open her mouth, however, Dan interrupted her, “Let’s get food then.” He motioned along the table and its profusion of foods. “I’m starved.”

“You shouldn’t have told her you’d have crashed,” Bonnie hissed, snatching a plate off the table. Marceline just smiled at her. “You know now that she’ll tell everyone.”

“Bon,” Marceline said in a surprisingly reasonable tone, “I didn’t actually crash. She can tell them whatever she pleases; the point is I do have an invitation. Lacking that,” here, she leant over until she was far too close to Bonnie for her liking, “I have you.” Her smile was devilish now and made Bonnie shiver despite all her self-control. 

“That’s all well and good, but Lucy can take a benign phrase and turn it into all kinds of horrifying gossip,” Bonnie deplored. Once she had food on her plate, she headed off towards a small table by a tree strung up with fairy lights and paper lanterns. It was a good distance away from both the buffet table and the pavilion. 

Marceline trotted to catch up with her and stared at her worriedly, “Is she that bad?” They sat at the iron table, both on the same side so they could watch the rest of the guests. Or… well… Bonnie was watching the guests; Marceline just kept staring at her.

“Pretty much.” 

Obviously, Marceline didn’t know how to respond, so they sat in silence for a long while. Not an awkward silence, not a tense one either, just regular silence. Marceline rotated her plate at one point and Bonnie forked the cherry tomato she’d been eating around with a smile. As it happened, that was when Jake and Rain appeared, she carrying a plate in either hand, he dragging a table behind him and a chair under his arm. Jake pressed the second table against theirs, and dropped into the chair. Each table had three chairs arranged around it anyway so Rain didn’t have to worry about that.

“Hey girls,” Jake said, pulling his plate closer. It was piled so high it could probably be seen from outer space. “How are we this evening. And geez, Elle, your mother went all out on the food.”

“She does that every year, Jake,” Bonnie reminded him, smiling as he practically buried his face in his plate. “You should expect it by now.”

“I’m pretty convinced,” said Rain fondly, “the only time he ever eats enough is at one of Cynthia’s parties.” Jake beamed at her around a mouth full of lasagne.

“That looks about right,” Marceline agreed, smile tugging at her lips.

Conversation was once again interrupted, this time as everyone else decided to join them. Cynthia was not going to be pleased that they were rearranging the feng shui of her lawn, but the possibility of her wrath didn’t faze Marshall who dropped another table down, or Robert who had their plates balanced on a pair of chairs. Lucy and Daniel joined them mere moments later toting their own seating, resulting in a strange conglomerate of rounded tables, edges not quite flush, rather reminisce of a four-leafed clover.

“Hope your mother won’t mind everyone grunking up her… harmony or whatever,” Marceline said lowly to Bonnie. She seemed amused by it all. “How will she take that do you think?”

“She’ll live,” Bonnie replied. “We do it every year.”

“Ooh, Elle,” Lucy buzzed, “feeling a little rebellious are we? You normally get this little frown,” and she rubbed her temple between her brows to show what she meant, “just there. Like you’re upset or something.”

“Bonnie’s been very rebellious lately,” Marshall snickered. Robert and Bonnibel both glared pure venom at him. Marceline kicked him under the table. He didn’t seem to care, just turned his knowing smirk at his plate instead.

“ _Really_?” There was a predatory glint in Lucy’s eyes now, a raptor soaring low over the plains, talons outstretched, well aware that the hare had nowhere to hide. Belying her expression, her voice might have been pure honey as she crooned, “And what, pray tell, is it you’ve done lately that’s so recalcitrant, Bonnibel dear?”

Beneath the table, Marceline’s hand closed about her wrist, Bonnie could feel those brown eyes on her as she silently panicked. What the cake did she say to that? Answers flooded her mind, lightning flashing in the quiet dark and vanishing before it even registered on the retinas. Bonnie couldn’t separate any of her thoughts, couldn’t make sense of them, couldn’t formulate a response.

She slumped into her chair, awash with relief when Marceline saved her, “She quit one of her jobs. The one at the school? Decided teaching wasn’t her thing, gave it up.”

Bonnie scrunched her eyes shut, heart rate slowing and sending a silent thanks to Marceline. She twisted her hand over in her lap, threading her fingers through Marceline’s and giving them a squeeze, hoping that she understood. It had better be good enough for Lucy, though.

Anxiously, she opened one eye and peered wonderingly at her blabbermouth of a friend. Lucy’s mouth was a gaping hole, eyes matching blue orbs, bright and gobsmacked. “You… _quit_ a job? Bonnibel that is most unlike you. How did it feel?”

She exhaled heavily and shot Marceline a look that she hoped screamed ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ because she couldn’t say it aloud and it needed to be said. “It was…” she sought for words, returning her attention to Lucy. “Strangely freeing. Of course I replaced it with a new one pretty much straight away. But for the few days I was without it, I had so much spare time. I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“So naturally she holed herself up in her room and did research,” Marceline tacked on wryly. “It takes something incredible to keep her away from her study.” Her eyes sparkled warmly as she glanced at Bonnie and muttered, “Freak,” just loud enough to be heard by most of them at the table.

“Speak for yourself,” Bonnie muttered back.

Lucy looked set to ask another question, but Marshall threw his chair back and lurched to his feet. He stared over them at the balcony up by the house, eyes wide, a lopsided smile on his face. “Hey,” he said slowly, tapping Rob on the shoulder repeatedly. “Hey, look. There’s cake.”

Rob swatted the hand away but followed Marshall’s gaze. Jake too looked up, then groaned. His plate was polished to a shine to do a dishwasher proud; he must have been so very full. All their eyes swivelled around to look.

“Not just one cake,” Marceline breathed somewhere between exceedingly happy and incredulous. “There’s half a dozen cakes.” Her shoulders hunched, pouting, she grumbled, “And I only got to ice one.”

“There, there,” Bonnie said impishly, patting her friend’s leg. “There will be _other_ cakes to ice. Don’t worry so much. You can eat it still you know.”

“Isn’t it a bit early for cake yet?” Rob asked – rhetorically, since he was checking his watch even as the words came out of his mouth. “Holy poundcake, it’s six already?” He squinted up at the sky, now mostly dark, barely any stubborn rays of orange sun remained to tickle the horizon. “Oh… well alright then.”

Marceline bounded to her feet, drawing Bonnie reluctantly up after her. “Come on then. I want cake. Does your mother put strawberries on her cakes by any chance, Bon?”

“I’m sure there’s some here,” Bonnie replied, pausing so she could walk with Rain. “She has every other type of food known to man.”

Satisfied with that answer, Marceline trotted off towards the kitchen, no doubt to rummage through the fridge in search of the elusive little fruits. The others all hastened for the pavilion, Cynthia was an excellent baker (people assume that’s where Robert got his talent from) and her cakes were always well received and gone in five minutes flat. Once they were out of earshot, Rain slowed and asked lowly, “Elle, are you ok?”

She let out a great whooshing breath and with it came a fragile, “Yes.” Rain was not convinced by a longshot and her raised eyebrow made sure Bonnie knew it. She sucked in a deep breath to replace the one she’d just lost and eyed Rain sideways. “I’m fine, Rain,” she said in a stronger, if still slightly unsteady, tone. “Just… uh…” She blinked slowly against the Christmas lights. Something large was playing her internal organs like a string instrument, a guitar, she supposed would be better. Specific was always better and apparently pianos are string instruments too. Who knew?

“You look worried,” Rain prompted. She meant well, she wanted to make sure Bonnie was in the best health she could be, that’s what best friends are for. And Bonnie hated lying to her. Hated it.

“I promise I’m fine,” she lied. And with it came a forced smile, no doubt perfectly transparent to her observant friend, but she did it anyway. Smiled and prayed. “Honest.”

Rain huffed but didn’t push the matter further. Just as well too, as they stepped into the cupola. It wasn’t packed, fewer than usual had turned up to the party and none of her family had come to town early this year. But despite that, there was still a crowd. Many of them were friends of her parents, colleagues, associates, a mixed bunch. Bonnie didn’t like talking to them; they made her uncomfortable, all of them expecting things from her she didn’t want to give. _Couldn’t_ give in some cases. It made for a lot of awkward conversations.

No presents were ever handed out at these things, and hadn’t been since Bonnie and Rob had turned eighteen. But that was okay because everyone got a free feed, which is better in some ways. Robert had slipped through the crowd to help Cynthia slice the cakes and make sure there was enough for all the guests.

As always, it took mere minutes for everyone to have claimed a piece – or two for Jake, no doubt to take one home to Finn. Bonnie hoped he was alright, college Christmas parties were worrying. But no, he was responsible… most of the time.

Marceline shuffled up, beaming triumphant with a small bowl of chopped strawberries in one hand not long later. “Would you like some?” she asked as they collected their cake. Considering her acute fondness for the fruit, offering to share was really something, but Bonnie politely declined. “Hey,” she said, bumping her shoulder against Bonnie’s. “You alright, dorkasaurus?”

“Yes, Marceline,” she told her slice of Pavlova. “I’m fine, just a little anxious, I guess.”

Marceline’s lips curled down slightly in a concerned frown. She stabbed her spoon into the cake so it stood without aid and touched Bonnie’s elbow gently. “We don’t have to say anything, you know.”

“I have to tell them.”

“ _We_ , Bon,” she said smiling. “ _We_ have to tell them. There’s two of us here, yeah?”

Her smile flared slightly, but she didn’t look up and the words might not have been as encouraging as Marceline wanted them to seem. Bonnie slumped into a bench under the eaves, looking out over the yard. It seemed that despite all her mother’s preparations most of the furniture had been rearranged. Taking her silence as indication that Bonnie was rather glum, Marceline slid onto the bench beside her, probably too close to pass off as ‘just friends’ but Bonnie didn’t really have it in her to care overly much.

“Hey,” Marceline said softly, placing one hand on Bonnie’s leg. “Look at me, Bonnie B. Please?” Obligingly, but reluctantly, somewhat anxious about… about _everything_ , Bonnie did look up. She couldn’t maintain eye contact for long though and ended up staring over Marceline’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath and relax for me, okay?” Suiting her words, Marceline sucked in a lungful of unnecessary air and exhaled.

Bonnie did so, shuddering, and finally brought her eyes across to look at her friend. Marceline’s eyebrows fell from up around her hairline, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she smiled. “Was that supposed to help me, then?” Bonnie asked her flatly, still feeling a little… swirly on the inside.

With a Cheshire grin and a laugh, Marceline told her, “Well no, it never really helps.” She glanced over her shoulder sheepishly and narrowed the gap between them even more before muttering, “And really, the only thing I can think to do so you’ll relax isn’t really a good idea. So I won’t even suggest it.” Bonnie glared at her. “How about you just pretend you’re telling them something benign? And then we’ll split before they’ve even realised what you said.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.”

“What’s a good idea?” Lucy collapsed onto the bench on Bonnie’s other side. Her all seeing eyes picked up first the fact that Marceline was sitting quite close, then the hand on Bonnie’s knee and then she looked up at Marceline’s face and grinned. Bonnibel could practically feel her heart stopping.

“Going home,” Marceline said smoothly, drawing away slightly under the pretence of putting her now empty plate on the table behind her. “It’ll be late when we get home and I have to see my dad in the morning. Lord knows I’ll have to be there before his meetings too or he’ll have a heart attack.”

Lucy’s head tilted to one side as she regarded Marceline, weighing her words, testing their sincerity. She nodded though, apparently satisfied with that response. “Family is important. Does your dad work on Christmas too? That’s unusual.”

“He runs the company. He’s never _not_ working,” Marceline grouched. “So it’s hard to organise holidays with the man. Marshall and I work our calendars around his timetable.” She shrugged. “It’s been that way my whole life, hard to feel bitter about it.”

“Sounds pretty rubbish,” Lucy commiserated. “But I can relate. My parents work a lot too. I-”

“Bonnibel, help me with this would you.” Cynthia cut across Lucy’s words causing all three of them to turn. Her mother was packing up some of the dishes, many piled atop each other in a manner that didn’t seem at all stable. Cutlery clinked and rattled as the stack moved.

With a sigh, Bonnie stood, collecting Marceline’s and Lucy’s plates as she wandered over to Cynthia. Her mother smiled at her briefly before she disappeared behind a pile of dishes and stumbled off towards the kitchen. In a _supremely_ tactful moment of enlightenment, Marceline excused herself from Lucy’s faux-interrogation in order to help first Cynthia, and then Bonnie up the stairs and into the kitchen. It was nice to have a guiding hand; she couldn’t see where she was putting her feet past the mound of glass in her arms.

“Are you going to wash now, mum?” Bonnie asked, depositing her load onto the bench.

“Hmm, yes why not? Get it out of the way.” Cynthia filled the sink with scalding water and arranged the dishes beside her elbow in her fussy way. Order, with Cynthia there was order for everything. Including the order she washed dishes in. 

Bonnie snagged a cloth from the rack on the oven and handed it to Marceline. “You dry, I’ll put them away,” she murmured. Marceline only grinned at her.

“You don’t have to help, girls,” Cynthia said, swishing a cup through the now bubbling water. “I’ll get Alex to assist me in a minute.”

“Nah,” Marceline said, snatching a cup from the rack. “It’s all good, Mrs B. I don’t mind.”

From under her brow, Cynthia shot Marceline a curious glance, but all she got in return was the exact same smile Marceline always wore. For several long, anxious minutes, they worked in silence; Bonnie couldn’t help but fidget when her hands had nothing to do. Marceline flashed her the best reassuring grin she could muster, but it didn’t really help.

 _Snap out of it_ , she berated herself, angrily dropping cutlery into drawers. _This is_ not _you, Bonnibel, honestly. This is not a big deal; it’s not a crazy thing, just… just… Ugh. Stop being such a wimp_.

And she continued to rant at herself, hoping her nerves would be chased off and banished by anger or frustration or… well any other emotion would be fine. Just _not_ anxiety. That was a terrible thing and made confident announcements that much harder to pull off. She would not be pathetic. She would _not_.

“Bonnibel, dear,” her mother exhaled into the water, “why are you so twitchy? Is something the matter?” Of course Cynthia would notice, she was _easily_ as observant as Lucy and ten times better at making cognitive leaps.

“Apparently she’s a rebel,” speaking of Lucy, she chirped that as she placed another stack of plates by the sink, beaming all the while. “Marshall said she’s been a little… defiant lately.” She waved a hand absently, crossing to the other bench and leaning across it, her glittering eyes fixed on Bonnie with intent to suck out every secret she ever had. “And while Marceline says it’s because she got a new job, _I_ personally think it’s something else.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking. Then, “Perhaps something really out there… _Maybe_ she’s seeing someone. Maybe she got drunk.” Her eyes widened, something verging on malicious sparked in their ultramarine depths as a thought occurred to her. A thought she promptly whispered hoarsely to the room, “Maybe it’s all three. Goes out, gets a little tipsy, meets a guy, takes him home… Maybe she’s _pregnant_.”

Marceline positively howled laughter at that. “Wow, Lucy,” she wheezed between fits of cackles. “You have an excellent sense of humour. I’ll give you that one.” She had to set a dish down, fearful of dropping it, and Bonnie’s heart was in her throat, not for the potentially shattered dish, but for whatever was said next. “Bonnie? Get drunk? You have _got_ to be kidding. She doesn’t even drink _soft drink_ , let alone alcohol. Please.”

Bonnie frowned at her, but got nothing save another bout of chortles, softer this time, under control. “Thank you, Marceline,” she replied dryly. 

“Oh calm yourself, Bon. You know I’m right.” Marceline’s smile broadened then, as she said, “And we both know there is _no way_ you’re pregnant. That’s preposterous. The only guy you’ve ever brought over is Rob… And Jake that one time, but he was with Rain so it doesn’t count.”

Lucy lifted an eyebrow at Marceline. “How can you possibly know none of what I said is true? It’s possible right?”

Marceline crossed the space to Lucy and patted her arm. “I’m her roommate, Lucy,” she explained as if to a three year old. “I think I would know if she was bringing boys over.” Lucy opened her mouth to object again, but Marceline spoke over the top of her. “Alright, alright. Okay, so _technically_ it could be possible. And I know I’m no maths genius, but it doesn’t take a brainlord to realise that there really aren’t enough hours in the day.” She lifted a hand and started ticking off fingers as she worked through all the reasons Lucy was wrong without actually telling her the truth. “She works what…? Four jobs? Library, two research positions and at the Candy Kingdom, you with me so far? That’s a lot of hours right there. Then there’s her ‘must have lunch with Rain at least once a week’ deal, the time she spends reading… whatever it is she reads, visits with her brother – who, I might add, lives nearly an hour away, so that’s a _big_ chunk right there. Plus there’s movie night, and her general geek out sessions because she’s so smart and has to keep all her random knowledge polished right up and also sleeping. Trust me, in between all that stuff, and the time I’m actually with her, Bonnie doesn’t have much wriggle room to be dating a guy and getting knocked up. No way. If, by some freak accident, I turn out to be wrong, then she has some time-turner doodad like the one Hermione had in Harry Potter. Cool?”

As Marceline’s elucidation went on, Lucy’s mouth had gotten progressively closer to perfectly imitating a flytrap. When she stopped speaking Lucy’s teeth clicked closed and she stared, first at Bonnie, then at Marceline, and then back. “Wow, you’re really busy… Like, all the time,” she breathed. “How… do you even have time to be here?”

Bonnie shrugged. “I’ve had it factored into my calendar for months. I knew when it was, so I’m not losing anything by being here. Simple really.”

Lucy’s mouth twisted into a wry pout. She rolled her eyes and muttered, “So… No guy?” 

Bonnie shook her head. “Definitely no guys, Lucy.” Marceline grinned when she said it.

“Ugh, you’re so boring,” Lucy declared, slouching out of the kitchen.

Cynthia, who had been quiet for all of that, now spoke softly, still gazing at the suds in the sink as if they were the most important things in the world, “You know I worry about you, Bonnibel. There are plenty of young men here, sons of the men your father works with, all very bright, very promising boys. Have you spoken to any of them tonight?”

Marceline twirled her drying cloth through the air in spirals, a little knowing smile on her face. It didn’t help Bonnie at all, that expression, not really. “No, mum, I haven’t spoken to any of them. And,” she said a little more forcefully as Cynthia opened her mouth again, “I don’t intend to. Please don’t press this.”

The door slid open and then closed again. There was not a sound in the kitchen save for the soft scuffling of shoes across the tiles. “Cynthia, the McDermotts are going,” Alex said absently, eyes peering at a piece of paper. “They won’t be here for New Years’. Tom said that-” His voice cut off as he looked up and noticed the scene in the kitchen. “Uh… what did I miss?”

Now, Cynthia spun away from the sink, hands covered in bubbles and she fixed her husband with an irate grimace. Bonnie noted idly that it was somewhat of a bizarre combination on her mother’s fine features. Her mouth worked a minute, clearly grappling with two things: her desire to say something and her desire to be tactful about it. Pushy Cynthia might be, but she wasn’t the kind of person to carelessly insult, especially if the subject of the possible insult stood right in front of her. Eventually she spluttered, “Bonnie won’t see guys. She said she won’t even talk to them, doesn’t want to date.” It fell out like a rush of air after getting punched in the stomach, as if it were doing actual harm to her person that her daughter didn’t want to talk to the pompous douches outside.

Alex rolled his lips under, “Hmm,” he said. Very eloquent man, her father. “Well that’s her decision, Cynthia,” he added at length. “If Elle doesn’t want to date, we can’t make her.” His eyes clipped in her direction, he seemed torn between agreeing with his unhappy wife and being accepting of Bonnie’s choice. He was the only reason Cynthia hadn’t forced Bonnie to business school and had supported her decision to pursue science.

Bonnie took a deep breath and sighed, “I have to be honest with you both.”

All three sets of eyes in the room swivelled her way. Cynthia still looked borderline furious, Marceline seemed stunned… or maybe just worried and her father merely came across curious. So… her mother would try to throttle her, that was predictable, but maybe it wouldn’t be a _complete_ disaster. Right?

“What is it, dear?” Alex asked, sinking slowly onto a cushioned stool on the other side of the bench. “You do know you can tell us anything.” He waved a hand in a semi-circle about himself. “Safe space,” he said, the corners of his eyes pinching in a smile.

Carefully, trying not to be too obvious about it, Bonnie stepped closer to the door and, by happenstance, closer to Marceline as well. Best to have a swift escape planned, just in case. “I… I’m seeing someone,” she whispered hoarsely.

Alex blinked, then smiled more widely. Cynthia’s shoulders slumped in purest confusion, behind her eyes, Bonnie could practically see the cogs turning as she thought that over. Then both her parents spoke at once.

Her father: “Well that’s good, dear. I hope he makes you happy, yes?” 

Her mother: “But you told Lucy there were no guys. _Definitely_ , I believe you said. Excuse me for being confused.”

Alex looked at his wife and frowned at her words. “Now I’m confused,” he said softly.

“Were you lying to Lucy or to us?” Cynthia asked, eyebrows sinking down low over her eyes.

Bonnie could feel Marceline’s eyes on her, could feel her trying to give Bonnie confidence and encouragement and all that other rubbish that wasn’t going to help her even a little bit. She had to draw another deep, trembling breath before she said, “No, I told the truth both times.” Her heart felt all weird, like it was both made of lead, dragging at her chest, trying to sink her in a bottomless black abyss and hyperactive, pounding fast, lodged in her throat. It was an unusual sensation to say the least. “There’s no guy. I… I’m…” She sucked in another breath and forced herself to steady. “I’m seeing Marceline.”

Silence.

Never before had Bonnibel ever experienced such complete and utter silence. It was as if someone had stuffed her ears with soundproof wool. She couldn’t even hear the people out in the yard. This was one of those moments where people say they could hear a pin drop. Not only would she have heard it hit the floor, she would have heard every bounce, every little stir it caused in the air would have been thunder.

Alex broke the stifling quiet by sighing.

“You what?” Cynthia asked very, _very_ softly. Bonnie had expected her to explode. This was worse.

Still, now that the hardest part was done with, the rest should be nice and easy. Isn’t that how it goes? “I’m dating Marceline,” she reiterated even though it was obvious her mother had heard perfectly what she’d said.

There was a flush around Cynthia’s ears now, something between anger and horror perhaps. Her jaw clenched and unclenched, clenched and unclenched, eyes boring into her as if hoping to find written somewhere on her soul that she was joking. Cynthia blinked, spun on her heel and clacked from the kitchen deeper into the house. Over her shoulder she spared a frosted, “Don’t tell a soul, Bonnibel.”

Bonnie’s knees felt like jelly, all wobbly and semi-liquid, she had to put concerted effort into staying upright. “Dad…” she probed gently. He turned his gaze up to her, face carefully neutral.

He swallowed and asked gruffly, “How long have you been together?”

It took yet more effort to keep from glancing over at Marceline. “Nearly three months, give or take a few days,” Bonnie replied, equally solemn.

He thought about that for a moment and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly, no doubt realising that meant they were together the last time Marceline had visited. A ghost of a smile pulled at his lips, Bonnie did a double-take, completely convinced that she’d been imagining it. “Give her some time, Bonnibel,” he muttered. “I must admit, I’m… stunned. It will take time to process and,” his cast his eyes to Marceline, “I doubt she’ll ever like you, Marceline. No matter that you made quite a good impression to begin with, she won’t forgive this. But – and don’t ever tell your mother I said this – I maintain as long as you’re happy, it’s fine.”

This time, Bonnie was absolutely sure she’d imagined it. “Um… really? Dad, I’m _gay_. You’re… alright with that?”

That phantom smile flickered, faded. “Well… yes and no. I can live with this, Bonnibel. I’m not against it; I do have gay friends you know. But…” he sighed. 

“Don’t,” Bonnie interjected before he could finish that thought. “I changed my mind, I don’t want to know. I knew there would be a ‘but’; I actually expected it would be the dominant sentiment to be honest. Just… I don’t know; try to be happy with this. For me?”

Alex bobbed his head. “I can do that, perhaps I’ll even convince Cynthia to accept it as well.” He snorted. “Actually, I doubt that will happen. You were incredibly brave… or stupid, Marceline, to be here when Bonnibel told us. Especially considering that Cynthia had all sorts of kitchen utensils at her disposal as weapons.” He frowned at Marceline now. It was a weighted look, positively _loaded_ with threats her gentle father would never speak. A very ‘if you hurt her I’ll put you down’ look. “You’d best go now,” he said. “There are no guarantees that next time she won’t throw a frying pan at your head.” They didn’t hesitate, just turned and headed for the door. “And Bonnibel?” She froze. “Please don’t tell anyone until your mother has cooled down.”

They basically fell down the stairs and Bonnie leaned against the side of the house, eyes closed, breathing a sigh of relief. _Thank god that’s over with,_ she mused. It hadn’t quite been an endorsement, but it had most certainly not been condemnation either.

Marceline collapsed beside her, smiling. “That wasn’t so bad,” she chuckled. “Could’ve been worse.” She turned her head to peer worriedly at Bonnie. “That was my excitement for the day. What do you think?”

“Mmn,” she replied absently. “We should go. I’ll just say goodnight to Rain.” Marceline murmured assent as Bonnie straightened and crossed the lawn to Rain and Jake. The latter having an animated conversation with Daniel and the former trying to appear engrossed in whatever mostly fictional story Lucy was weaving.

Rain took Bonnie’s arrival as reason to stop listening completely. Her smile turned down at the corners slightly when she saw Bonnie’s face though. “Hey, Elle, what’s wrong?” she asked. Which of course garnered Lucy’s attention as well.

She shook her head. “We’re going now. I’d also avoid my mum for the rest of the evening. She’s in a rotten mood, I’m sorry.”

Jake looked confused for a moment before realisation dawned on him and his jaw dropped open. He knew the exact level of stupid it would take to tell Cynthia something she didn’t want to hear. Rain got to the correct conclusion first though and jerked to her feet, pulling Bonnie into a hug.

“Did you tell them?” she asked quietly. Bonnie only nodded. “How’d they take it?”

“As expected really. Mum… isn’t happy,” Bonnie replied lowly. “At all. But dad was surprisingly tolerant of the whole thing.”

Rain pulled away, her grip on Bonnie’s shoulders though tightened, if anything. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

Bonnie did her best to smile and sound honest when she said, “Of course. They just have to deal with it, right?” Rain’s sad smile spoke volumes, and every last one of them told of how Cynthia _didn’t_ just have to live with it. But the words remained unsaid, thank goodness.

“What’s this?” Lucy piped up. “What did you tell your parents that’s got Cynthia in a foul mood and you looking like someone died?”

“Nothing, Lucy,” Rain said, mercifully. “Just… uh…” She rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing. You know how Cynthia gets when cutlery goes missing. Now she’ll have to buy a whole new set.”

“A whole new kitchen is more like,” Jake added. Bonnie wanted to thank them both so much. So very much. While it was a pretty pathetic excuse, it had happened before and was therefore founded in solid truth.

Bonnie mouthed thanks at both of them before saying goodnight again and scurrying off. She waved to Rob and Marshall sitting under a tree with their heads together. Her brother seemed worried, but she offered a smile and disappeared out to her car before he could even stand. She didn’t want him to make a big deal out of it. It was done and over with now and all she felt was relieved, anxiety gone. 

Marceline was leaning against the side of her car staring up at the sky when she approached. The lock beeped causing her friend to look down. A soft smile cracked across her face, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t even open her mouth. Marceline didn’t say a word the whole way home, not even to complain when they didn’t stop for ice-cream. She sat in the passenger seat in total silence. Even the radio was turned down low. It was if the world had been muted, aware of how fragile she felt on the inside and didn’t want to make too much noise in case it was enough to shatter her.

Once the door to their apartment was locked behind them though, the silence was ruined. “Hey, Bon,” Marceline murmured. She stood on the other side of the couch in the lounge room, for once not trying to invade personal space. “You going straight to bed? I’m gonna watch a movie, but I’ll keep it down low for you.”

Bonnibel’s heart ached. Marceline hadn’t asked if she was okay, she’d acted like nothing had happened at all, as if everything was exactly the same. Bonnie stopped cold in her tracks, eyes pricking with tears she really didn’t want to shed because she didn’t know why they were even there. It didn’t make sense. 

She turned away from the arch to the hall and stepped around the sofa to stare at Marceline in bewilderment. The other woman blinked, exuding an air of nonchalance. It wasn’t uncaring or taciturn, it was just… just normal.

Bonnie threw her arms around Marceline’s neck and buried her face in her collar. She refused to cry. She wouldn’t do it. She _wouldn’t_. And she didn’t. But her knees did finally give out on her, jelly giving way at last, turning to water. Marceline caught her and the next thing she knew Bonnie was on the sofa, sitting on Marceline’s lap, eyes scrunched closed because everything was too much.

“If it’s a happy movie,” she eventually mumbled into Marceline’s neck, “I think I’ll stay right here. Is that alright with you?”

Marceline’s arms around her tightened and she whispered, “More than alright.” Of course, Marceline had to disengage Bonnie’s break-neck hold to put the disc in, but she didn’t seem to mind when Bonnie resumed her seat after that. “Are you going to fall asleep in this movie, Bon?”

“No doubt.”

Marceline chuckled. “You let me know when you get tired then.”

As the movie played, Bonnie felt herself relax. She’d told her parents. Sure, it had been nerve-wracking and generally terrifying. But it was over. Done. They knew and that was that. They’d reacted now and she could cope with whatever happened next, she was positive of that. And as the tension gradually ebbed (Marceline’s fingers fiddling with her hair didn’t hurt that process either) she felt sleep closing in.

She yawned.

Then blinked as Marceline paused the movie. She leaned back to peer at her friend. There was an intensity to her eyes now that Bonnie had only seen once… maybe twice before. Definitely twice. The fingers in her hair stilled, but Marceline looked like she wanted to fidget nonetheless.

Bonnie placed a hand on one cool cheek and queried, “Are _you_ alright?”

Marceline sighed, nodded and looked away. “You said once that I express myself better in song than regular conversation, do you remember?” Bonnie nodded and Marceline must have seen because she went on, “Alright then. This is me doing just that.” She closed her eyes, leaning her face into Bonnie’s palm and sighed. Not in exasperation, more like… contentment.

“ _You took the time to memorise me,_  
 _My fears, my hopes and dreams_  
 _I just like hanging out with you,_  
 _All the time._  
 _And all those times that you didn’t leave_  
 _It’s been occurring to me_  
 _I’d like to hang out with you_  
 _For my whole life._  
 _Stay._  
 _Cause I’ll be loving you for quite some time…_ ”

Her voice cracked and trailed away to nothing, but she kept staring at Bonnie, eyes never wavering. For her part, Bonnie just sat there, dumbfounded. Her heart clenched painfully and something down near her diaphragm fluttered madly, her fingers winding distractedly in Marceline’s dress. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Which was probably a good thing, because she didn’t know what she wanted to say anyway.

“Please say something,” Marceline whispered.

So she did, “Y… you…” Again the words got stuck; Bonnie tried to work some moisture into her mouth and tried again, “You love me?”

A purple tint spread across Marceline’s face, even her ears (pointed now, her spell having worn off) had taken on the colour of a plum. She cleared her throat. “Yeah… Uh…” Her fingers tapped against Bonnie’s hip, probably from nerves. “No biggie right? Just… uh…”

Bonnie saved her from having to find any form of eloquence by kissing her. Marceline seemed startled at first, then she stopped being stunned and took up simply being happy. Bonnie felt her smile, fingers no longer tapping; they were quivering a little bit though as they grabbed fistfuls of Bonnie’s skirt. Trailing whispering kisses along her jaw to her ear, Bonnie muttered only a little breathily, “I love you too, dopey.”

Marceline exhaled a trembling breath, her arms constricting. “Really?” The word was so quiet it was almost lost.

“Really,” Bonnie affirmed, knotting her fingers into Marceline’s hair. “Promise.”

Marceline pressed her nose to Bonnie’s neck. “I always forget to tell you,” she muttered. “I love you. I’ve loved you from the very first day.” She ran a hand through Bonnie’s hair. “Go to sleep.”

Bonnie smiled, for once, sleeping wouldn’t be hard. She pressed her lips to Marceline’s cheek before allowing her head to settle on her shoulder. “Merry Christmas,” she yawned.

As sleep folded about her (incredible given how fast her heart was pounding still), she heard Marceline laugh and return with, “Merry Christmas, Bonnibel.”


	26. Looks A Lot Like A Tragedy Now

_Beeeeep-beep_

“Marceline your phone is making noise again.”

“Is it a text?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s it from and what’s it say?”

“I am _not_ your messenger pigeon.”

From the bathroom, Marceline just laughed. Still, Bonnie picked up the phone and tapped to access the new message. The thing had been going off all morning. Most of them were from Marshall asking about what had gone down last night. Apparently her mother had been especially glacial towards him. Bonnie probably should have given him a heads up.

“It’s from Keila,” she called, eyes scanning the text. As she read though, she felt confusion and then slight panic scrabble through her chest.

Marceline stuck her head into the hall so she could see Bonnie. “Yeah. And what’s it say, genius?”

 _You do know it’s illegal to have any kind of relationship with mortals right? And don’t you dare try to tell me she’s ‘just your roommate’. I know you better than that_.

Bonnie sat quietly, her throat clenched, completely incapable of replying to Marceline’s question. Luckily, she wandered down the hall and plucked the phone from Bonnie’s rigid fingers. This time, Marceline’s eyes widened as she read.

“Illegal,” Bonnie questioned softly. “It’s _illegal_? Why… What does that even mean, Marceline?”

Her friend sighed, arm falling to her side, the phone clutched in a white-knuckled fist. It seemed in danger of being crushed, actually. “It means what it says. Magicals aren’t allowed to have relations with mortals.” She sank into a chair across from Bonnie, not making eye contact.

“You didn’t think to tell me that?”

“I knew you’d overreact and it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s _illegal_ , Marceline,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t even know you had _rules_.”

She sighed again, staring at the tabletop now. “Blanket rules to cover all species. I… It’s supposed to be because we live so much longer and…”

“Humans are fickle?” Bonnie asked sourly, not quite able to keep bitterness from her tone.

“Yeah…” Marceline hunched her shoulders. “It’s to stop humans from finding out about us, to stop us from getting too emotionally attached to someone who we’ll outlive by potentially centuries and… and to stop population inflation. Especially for species that are contagious.”

Bonnie blinked. “I don’t understand that last bit.”

“Some…” she swallowed, still looking anywhere but at Bonnie. “Some species are contagious; vampires, werewolves, a few magical breeds, wizards and witches can pass their powers to another… Then you have the possibility for half-castes; for instance, merpeople can live on land for short periods of time and can breed with humans, but their offspring are neither one, nor the other. Which creates new species altogether. That’s where centaurs came from you know? Human-dryad children have affiliations with nature and completely new species were created. Centaurs and fawns and the like. But for contagious breeds,” now that Marceline had picked up momentum it was like she couldn’t stop the babble of words from falling out, “like us… well. If every time one of us got attached emotionally to a human we turned them… our numbers would explode. Which is bad. I told you, we’ve been trying to keep numbers _down_ for centuries. Just in case someone gets a bright idea about ruling the world or something.”

Bonnie was silent a moment, wondering if Marceline had more to say. It seemed, however, that whatever torrent had powered her last flood of words had run dry. So she said, “That’s a lot of reasons. Why ignore all that? Why did your _dad_ ignore all that?”

Marceline shrugged. She turned her face away and grumbled, “I kind of like you, alright?”

And that was it, Bonnie’s heart – so angry at Marceline for being blind and stubborn only moments ago – now turned into a puddle of melted butter. She smiled but Marceline didn’t see it, still glowering at the fridge as she was. “Hey,” Bonnie said softly, standing. “I have to go to work you know, I have to get this done before New Years’. Just…” She couldn’t think of anything to say. Part of her wanted to berate Marceline for breaking rules that served a rather important purpose. Another part (possibly the bigger of the two) was touched and wanted nothing so much as to ignore the logic. She rested one hand on Marceline’s shoulder as she walked past. She opened her mouth again, but nothing came out. So she sighed and got dressed instead.

Marceline was uncommonly quiet as she readied herself. She maintained that silence even as Bonnie left, she did move from the table to the couch though, looking worried. Bonnie wanted to say something, it sat on the tip of her tongue and danced, taunting her, but she couldn’t identify the words to say them. Sighing, she left, hoping Marceline would be okay. 

For her part, she’d slept soundly and the anxiety that had plagued her all of yesterday, even the guilt she’d experienced last night, was gone. Washed away by the morning light, wan though it was, clouds rolling in again. It occurred to her then, that Marceline was supposed to go see her father for Christmas. She paused, on the verge of turning around to offer a ride, then changed her mind. She wasn’t _mad_ at Marceline for anything in particular… might have been nice to know she was breaking rules though.

It didn’t rain as she drove towards Hunter’s building, but the sky did darken perceptibly. As always, she parked around the back and used her card to get in through the service entrance. She never used the front door unless Marceline was with her and this way, fewer people would see her on her way to the lab. Halfway down the hall, she paused, and looked around. It was surprisingly empty. None of the thralls had living family so there was no _real_ reason for them to have a day off. She blinked and, warily, headed for the foyer.

Clara wasn’t at her desk.

Not once had Clara been away from her spot. Not. Once. The hair on the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably, something wasn’t right here. Bonnie had a tense feeling low in her chest, a tightness telling her to run. Yet, it wasn’t the dominant feeling; it battled against an illogical desire to find out what was going on. This was the same experience all those silly girls in horror movies felt right before a guy with an axe leapt out from behind a curtain and lopped their heads off. Her fingers twitched. There were no flickering lights, no unexplained dimness in corners, nothing out of the ordinary.

Still a little concerned, Bonnie stepped up to the glass doors and peered up at the motion detector. The doors didn’t swoosh open and the little red light didn’t blink at her. Her heart thudded. Oh yes, something was wrong here.

She’d just decided to leave, head back out the way she came, when she heard clacking on the marble floor behind her. With relief flooding through her, convinced that was Clara arriving now, maybe she’d slept in or something, Bonnie turned. It wasn’t Clara.

“Good morning,” Ash said softly.

The hairs on her arm stood upright, metaphorical hackles quivering in agitation and fear. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even open her mouth to speak, to ask him what he wanted. This was purest fear.

“Marceline always said I was a Grinch,” he said. His boots pounded against the floor heavily now as he circled her. “She said I had a knack for ruining Christmas. Or any day, really. She said it was my greatest gift.” He looked down at his fingers, nails painted glossy black. “Maybe she’s right. But today _is_ Christmas. I figure I deserve a gift, just like everyone else,” he purred as he stalked towards her now, “And I know exactly what I want.”

Still unable to move, Bonnie was helpless as his fist collided with her face, vision fuzzing to black.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Her face was pressed against something cold, slick, metal. Fingers scrabbled at it, trying to work out what was going on. What had happened? Her vision swam, split in two, three, as she tried to get up. Her ankles and wrists were bound with bluish, barely tangible light; fingers wiggled experimentally, her head _hurt_.

The world spun violently as she righted herself, blinking rapidly, trying to correct her sight, trying to hold back the tears pulled from her ducts as the harsh ceiling light glared at her. She looked around, wondering where she was. The items – large metallic machines – dotting the room seemed familiar, the fridge, the doors, the desks, they all tickled the back of her mind. She wondered absently if she had amnesia or something.

Groaning despite herself, she lifted her hands and rubbed her temple. Her fingers came away sticky, a long but thankfully shallow cut ran across her scalp, just above the hairline; a trickle of blood had dried as it wound across her brow. Her nose itched, it too was bleeding and she must have bitten her lip, tasting copper. She blinked again, realising why the room looked familiar; it was a science lab.

A man stepped out from an adjoining room with several stoppered vials in his hands. He placed them on stands and glanced up at her. His toothy smile wasn’t pleasant. _Ash_ , her brain whispered, recognising him vaguely, _wizard_. Yeah… something in her mind was definitely jumbled up really good. Not so badly that she didn’t have the presence of mind to grope around in her pocket for her phone and hit speed-dial though.

“You’re finally awake,” he said cheerily. “Good, just in time. Which one of these,” he waved at the racks and their tubes, “contains the cure?”

She blinked, feeling stupid. _Cure_? Cure for what? The back of her brain crawled, memories oozing past the pain. Oh yes, the cure. She just blinked at him, mouth hanging open slightly, eyes unfocused. Her mind kicked into overdrive, wondering how she could get away, wondering if she could stall or distract him.

He smashed a fist onto the glinting metal bench and roared, “The _cure_ , you wretch. Which one is it?”

“Um…” she mumbled, her voice bubbling slightly, full of saliva and blood. “Cure? Are you sick?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, mortal,” he growled, prowling closer. “I know you’ve been working on a cure for the madness. For _Simon_ , not that he deserves it. _I do_. Tell me which one it is and I _might_ let you live.”

“Even if I knew what you were talking about that’s… not much incentive to tell you, is it,” she said slowly, thinking. Obviously she couldn’t tell him which one it was. That was stupid. Unless… Unless her hypothesis was right, in which case it wouldn’t matter. “Who are you again?” she asked him, trying to reinforce the idea she had no memories.

His lips curled. “You know precisely who I am.”

She tilted her head. “Mean?” she asked innocently.

His fingers clenched into fists again. “Tell me which one it is.”

“I don’t know,” she said bluntly.

“What do you mean you don’t know,” he bellowed. “You made it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where am I anyway?” She looked around, blinking, trying her very best to look stupid. She looked down at her bound hands, wiggling her fingers, frowning. “Why did you tie me up?”

Ash’s face went the colour of a tomato. “What’s the matter with you?” He pulled back, reeling, one hand to his brow. “Got no memories huh?”

“I guess. Would you like to explain everything to me then?”

He fumed. Had he been a cartoon character, there would have been steam streaming from his ears. “I need the cure.”

“What’s it for?”

“To take away the madness and let me live.”

She bobbed her head. “That sounds nice. How do you know it’s here?”

“You made it. You’ve been working on it for ages. I found records of requisitions and lab tests and everything. Hunter thought he was being clever, getting a mortal to do it. But you left a paper trail. Now,” he ground out between his teeth. “I need that cure.” He threw out an arm at the table again. “Which one of these is-”

The door exploded inwards, almost coming off its hinges. A dark shape cannoned across the room and slammed so hard into Ash that they tumbled across the room, knocked over the centrifuge and dented the wall. Tiles cracked, lines spiderwebbing up the wall, dropping splinters of tile and wood on their heads.

The pile of near-debris shifted and the dark shape was propelled violently away, the motion accompanied by a flash of light and a crunching sound. A person rotated in the air, stopping herself from colliding with the ceiling by mere centimetres. Blood dribbled from a cut under one eye. She glanced over at her.

“You alright down there?” the floating woman asked deadpan.

Bonnie nodded, squeaking, “Fine thanks.” _Squeaking_? She had to get a hold of herself. This was unacceptable. She scrabbled at the wall, pushing herself up.

Pieces of the centrifuge careened across the room, sent flying by inhuman strength. Ash staggered from underneath a smooth panel, tossing it aside and glaring up at Marceline. “What are you doing here?” Ash growled, shaking tile dust from his bleached hair.

With the back of one hand, Marceline wiped blood from her cheek and grinned lopsidedly down at him. “It’s Christmas, Ash. I’m here to visit daddy dearest.” She tilted her head, hair falling in a midnight waterfall over one shoulder. “What are _you_ doing here? Just harassing the staff or do you have some other _diabolical_ plot up your sleeve?”

“I just want what is mine,” he hissed. Around his hands, pale yellow light flared and sputtered away. “Your father can’t keep it all to himself and Simon isn’t the only one who needs it.”

Lazily, Marceline kicked back, lolling in the air, staring at Ash like he wasn’t even worth her time. Adding insult to injury, she yawned. “Dunno what you’re talking about there, pinhead. I wasn’t aware there was a single thing here with your name on it.”

He bristled, the light in his palm intensifying again, coalescing, drawing particles of what Bonnie could only assume was energy (because dust didn’t behave like that no matter who was involved). It pooled between his fingers and screamed – a harsh, high-pitched whine that forced her to clap hands over her ears until it passed beyond her range of hearing. When it was nothing more than a faint, shrill whistle, it burst from his fingertips. A bright beam of… of _stuff_ , hurtling towards Marceline. Who – in her insolent manner – merely rolled to one side and let the beam scythe through the ceiling. It carved a ragged hole through two floors before lancing out the side of the building and tapering out, banished by the much stronger light of the sun.

Bonnie watched it, wide-eyed, even Ash looked mystified. Then, in a blur of darkness, Marceline was floating behind Ash, he whirled, trying to keep sight of her, but she only laughed, too fast for him. She draped a casual arm around his shoulders and fiddled with his collar. “I think you should go now, Ash,” she whispered to him.

Unexpectedly, however, Ash smiled and flicked his wrist. Ethereal chains erupted from his leather jacket, coiled about Marceline, binding her tight, choking her, snapping arms to her sides and ripping her from the air. She remained a hand’s-breadth off the floor, and this time Ash wound his arm around her throat, a long, wicked blade appeared, shimmering out of thin air, in his hand. He placed the tip of that strangely glowing knife to Marceline’s throat. She writhed, straining at the bonds, glaring at him, but she couldn’t break free.

Now, Ash chuckled, “I think you should have been a little more concerned with your safety, dear.” He pressed the knife harder, pricking the skin just beneath her jaw, not quite hard enough to draw blood. “I always had the jump on you.” Marceline’s shape flickered, buzzed, like static, as though she was trying to… to… Bonnie wasn’t sure, she had no idea what Marceline was capable of. Ash did though. “Oh, come now,” he crooned. “The last time I chained you up; you did that shape-shifting thing you’re so fond of.” He tapped the flat of the blade on her nose. “I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.” Then he punched her, her nose cracked, blood gushed from one side, but Marceline didn’t even flinch, just kept glaring.

She noticed Bonnie then, pressed against the wall, not far away, eyes big with fear. Marceline smiled, her teeth were stained red as she said, “Sorry, Bonnie. I’m all out of tricks. Thanks for calling though.”

Ash snapped to attention. “Calling?” he asked, whirling to face her. “Called her? How?”

Bonnie pulled her phone from her pocked and hung up. “Speed dial,” she said softly. 

His smile this time was menacing… no, that was underselling it. This was something else, pure malice maybe? Either way, he smiled at her when he spoke, “Not amnesia then?”

Bonnie shook her head. “Stalling.”

He chuckled, and forced the knife into Marceline’s neck again, this time hard enough that a thin trail of blood seeped from beneath it. “Clever,” he purred. “So, I take it you do know where the cure is?” He nodded at the table.

She took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn’t attack her when she stepped over to it. Her heart pounded in her chest and her hands just would _not_ stop shaking. Bonnie kept a covert eye on him, but he didn’t move, perhaps more concerned with keeping Marceline out of it. On the bench was an array of equipment. Other than the vials in their stands, there were several needles, the clever kind she liked, the ones where the whole vial was slid into the slot and a hole was bored through the lid for the injection. It made measuring so much easier. It appeared he’d been planning on injecting himself straight away then. Good. Bonnie closed her eyes and prayed to all the gods she didn’t believe in, hoping that this would work.

The inky chains rattled behind her. “Don’t give it to him, Bonnie,” Marceline muttered angrily, voice strained. “Don’t do it. He’ll kill you.”

Ash clucked. “Touching,” he sighed with feigned compassion. “Give me the vial or I’ll kill Marceline.”

Bonnie glanced over her shoulder at him. “I don’t think you’d do that, Ash,” she told him as calmly as she could. Her voice trembled anyway, cracked at the end. “Kill me, yes. Kill Marceline? No, no I don’t think so.” She pressed one hand to her breastbone, glad to have had foresight when making the formula.

Slowly, she slipped the lanyard from around her neck, a tube of liquid hung from the clip at the bottom, full of greenish liquid. It had a strange shine to it, courtesy of Hunter’s efforts in augmenting the solution. Sometimes light winked off it yellow, other times blue, once it was even stained purple, coils of some otherworldly energy danced in the mixture. _I so hope this works_ , she thought to herself, sliding it into one of the needles.

“You…” Marceline breathed. “You never left it here. You took it with you!”

Bonnie nodded. “Leaving it here was hardly a good idea. Clearly it’s pretty easy to break in.” She nodded at Ash to make her point.

Marceline struggled at the bonds, knife scoring her neck again. Bonnie wondered idly why she was bleeding. Being undead, Marceline shouldn’t have any blood to lose. She filed it away and stepped over to Ash, holding the needle in one hand.

His mouth curled in a cruel smirk. “Very smart of you to take it with you, human,” he said. “Didn’t help though, did it? You’re still going to give it me.”

Bonnibel stopped just out of his reach, cradling the needle as though it were infinitely delicate. “Actually, I’m not going to give it to you unless you promise you won’t hurt Marceline or her family,” she said, voice still wobbling despite her best efforts. “And I want a proper promise, not one you can just fob off. Alright?”

He frowned, mouth a thin line now, clearly unhappy. Still, he lifted a hand and placed it over his heart, fingers glowing a soft red now. Eyes boring into her skull, tone full of resentment, he breathed, “I solemnly swear not to do or say anything that might ever bring harm or so much as a frown down on Marceline Abadeer… or her family.” The light around his hand brightened and he leant closer to her. “For good measure, I will promise that for your whole family too, Bonnibel Bubblegum,” he snarled. “I won’t ever so much as threaten you or yours. Good enough?”

She wavered. Could she trust him? Well… no, obviously not. But she’d made a deal, and he’d upheld what she’d asked of him. Bonnie took a step over to him, held up the needle, harsh white light glancing off it, turning the liquid the colour of those green highlighters, it looked toxic. 

“I hope this works,” she muttered. Without ceremony, she stabbed the needle into his shoulder.

“No!” Marceline screamed, thrashing in her bonds.

The knife clattered to the floor, vanished in a whorl of silvery powder. Then the chains holding Marceline puffed out of existence too and she collapsed to her knees on the tiles, rubbing at her throat. Bonnie scampered over to her, hands still shaking, wrapping her arms around Marceline’s shoulders, trying not to think about what would happen if the serum didn’t do what she thought. What she now very much _hoped_ it would do.

Marceline’s hands grabbed Bonnie’s shirt, held on tightly. “What did you do, Bon?” she asked, peering over Bonnie’s head at Ash.

Uncertain now, she twisted in Marceline’s grasp to watch Ash as well. Light blossomed in his hands, coiled up his arms, shoulders, engulfing his face, enveloping his whole body. Tiles rattled on the wall, fighting, clacking against each other, falling out. The floor rumbled, shook, jouncing the debris on the floor; the ceiling light flickered fitfully; machines around the room warbled to life and blinked, flashing erratically before fizzing back to sleep.

Marceline’s arms tightened almost painfully around Bonnie’s middle. Then the lights around Ash winked out, sparks dispersing, flitting away through the walls, vanishing. The room settled. 

Ash frowned. He clenched his hands, relaxed them. Fingers turning to claws, his frown deepened. His furious gaze was a hurricane and should have wiped away everything in its path as it swept around to Bonnie.

He stalked across to her and Marceline leapt between them, glaring right back at him. His hands closed in Marceline’s collar and he strained, strained with all his might, a vein popping out on his forehead from the effort. But he couldn’t move her.

He slumped, staggering back a step. Ash scowled past Marceline at Bonnie, who was now stumbling aright. “What have you done?” he whispered, voice nearly inaudible. “What is this? I’m not _cured_.” His voice carried every ounce of accusation he could muster.

“You are cured,” Bonnie told him in the manner of a doctor telling a patient they had three months to live. “This was the best solution I could come up with. The madness wasn’t an illness, Ash, it’s a _symptom_. A symptom of another disease, a parasite.” She shook her head. “I tried, Hunter and I worked on it, but there was no way to separate the two because they are the _same thing_. I can’t take away your madness without stripping from you your magic also.”

Ash’s eyes widened. “I… I have no magic? I’m _mortal_?”

“Yes,” Bonnie said simply.

He lurched towards her then froze where he stood, recalling that Marceline was very much stronger than him now. Being still magical and all that. He no longer stood a chance against her. There was fire in his eyes now, though, and he swung a fist at Marceline’s jaw anyway.

It didn’t connect.

The blow skittered off to one side as though skimming along ice. Invisible ice, too, it was. A barrier, about an inch from Marceline’s face. Ash’s momentum carried through and he lurched after it, nearly barrelling into the wall.

“What was that?” Marceline asked, blinking. “I mean, he wouldn’t have done any harm anyway but…” She turned shimmering eyes Bonnibel’s way. “ _Harm_ ,” she enthused. “You… you used his magic against him. Oh you’re very good.”

She shrugged self-consciously. “It _is_ illegal for me to know any of this stuff,” Bonnie replied, waving her hand absently. “Since he’s now aware that I’m filled in on it all, I figured it might be a good idea to make sure he wouldn’t tell. I just assumed that illegal actions would end in some form of punishment. Now he can’t blackmail you.”

Marceline positively beamed at her. “You,” she said happily, “are a certified genius.”

“Yes I know. I have a degree to prove it.” _Two degrees_ , she corrected in her head.

Still grinning, Marceline turned her attention back to Ash. “So,” she said, crouching beside where he was sprawled at the base of the wall. “What to do with you, eh?”

“Kill me, I guess, yeah?” Ash asked, brokenly.

“Nah,” Marceline sang. “I don’t really want to kill you. I think you should go live life like a normal person. What’s your life expectancy now anyway?”

He coughed. “I was twenty-six when I was given my powers.”

“Yeah.” She straightened. “Go to college, meet a girl, get a job and live happily ever after then. Just don’t try and get your powers back, alright?” She smiled at him in a way that was far too sweet to be anything but bad. “Or I’ll have to hurt you again.” Marceline put her hands on her knees and leaned right in close to him so she could whisper as threateningly as she could manage, “And if you breathe a single word about any of this, I will hunt you down and chop you into liver sticks to feed to the homeless in Africa. You hear me?”

He nodded bonelessly.

“Get out.”

Ash scrambled to his feet and lurched from the lab. Marceline sighed, straightening, putting her hands to the small of her back and cracking it. Bonnie’s phone beeped.

They both jumped and then fell into fits of relieved laughter. She picked it up off the table where she’d dropped it and flicked the text up. It was from Rob.

 _You have officially been uninvited to New Years’_ , he told her. _Marshall isn’t allowed to come either. I think you may have really gotten to mum this time, Elle_.

“What’s it say?” Marceline peered over her shoulder to read and then grinned. “Oh excellent. I love a challenge. And that’s just what this is. Your mother wants to uninvited me? Fine, let her. I haven’t crashed a party in years.”

“We should probably clean the lab up first,” Bonnie muttered, looking around. She supposed the damage wasn’t too bad. Hunter was going to need a new centrifuge though. And a new ceiling. “And tell Simon. I know it’s not much, but he might like to know since all of this was for him in the first place.”

Marceline wrapped an arm around Bonnie’s waist and pulled her closer. “Yeah, alright, we can do that,” she sighed, brushing hair from Bonnie’s face. “But first; I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the rules. I’ve just decided I don’t care. They say that it’s only once in a lifetime you meet someone you want to break the rules for, and I’ve lived what amounts to a _lot_ of lifetimes. This is the very first time I’ve wanted to break magical rules though.” She exhaled softly and pressed her nose to the skin beneath Bonnie’s ear. “You said it was an easy fix, and it is. I’m not saying you should, but I won’t tell you that you shouldn’t either. And I won’t complain either way.” She paused for a very long time and Bonnie got the impression there was something else Marceline wanted to say, but, in true Marceline fashion, she didn’t have the words for it.

“If you can’t say it,” Bonnie murmured in her ear, “you can always sing it.”

She felt Marceline smile and suck in a deep breath. “I’m not even sure I have lyrics for it. I’ll have a go though.

“ _Maybe I’m just lucky ‘cause it’s hard to believe_  
 _Believe that somebody like you’d end up with someone like me._  
 _And I know that it’s so cliché to tell you that every day_  
 _I spend with you is the new best day of my life._  
 _It’s so very obvious to everyone watching us_  
 _That we have got something real good going on._  
 _And I’m racking my brain for a new improved way_  
 _To let you know you’re more to me than what I know how to say._ ”

Marceline fiddled with the loops on her jeans, humming in thought. “No,” she mused. “That’s not quite right. One day, Bonnibel, I’m gonna learn how to write love songs. Then I’ll feel accomplished.”

“You’ve done a pretty good job so far. You’ve even got me picking things up.”

Marceline pulled back. “Oh, ho! You think you can write songs now? You don’t even listen to music.” She was smiling though, pulling Bonnie towards the door. “Give it a go then, big shot.”

Bonnie frowned. Honestly, she hadn’t expected to be called out on that one. Her brain kicked up a notch as she thought everything through. “Alright,” she said. “I will give it a go.

“ _It’s twisted, messed up_  
 _And the more I think about it_  
 _It’s crazy, but so what?_  
 _I may never understand it_  
 _I’m caught up and I’m hanging on_  
 _I’m gonna love you even if it’s wrong._  
 _Even if it’s twisted._ ”

Marceline frowned, fingers winding between Bonnie’s. “Hmm” she said. “Not bad for your first time. At the very least it rhymes… mostly.”

“Shut up. You can’t even communicate in regular conversation. How about you give _that_ a go then? Oh, All Talented Vampire.”

With a fanged smile, Marceline declared, “I can do that.”

“Emotions, Marcy,” Bonnie reinforced. “You kind of suck at emotions.”

“Yeah, yeah…” she trailed off, chewing the inside of her cheek, thinking. “Let me work this out aloud, ‘kay?” Her voice became very soft, little more than whispers under her breath and Bonnie clearly wasn’t meant to hear, but she pressed herself closer anyway, straining to decipher the mutterings. “You’re the only one who’s got enough of me to break my heart… mmm… I don’t wanna need you this way… No, not that… Well sort of… No. Uh…” She smiled and spoke louder. “I have died every day waiting for you, I’ve loved you my whole life and I don’t think I could face eternity without you. How’s that?”

Bonnie’s mouth twisted wryly. “Well that first part was song lyrics.” Marceline cringed, caught out. “But other than that, _wunderbar_.”

“Great,” she said happily. “Now, after we’ve spoken to Simon, I have to educate you on the ways of party crashing.”

“Uh… why?”

Her grin was rather worrying. “Because your mother didn’t invite us to New Years’.”

Bonnie couldn’t help but smile with her.


	27. When The Lights Die Out

“So did you guys have a good Christmas day?” Jake asked, peering concernedly at Marceline whose left eye was still bruised from getting punched yesterday. “Did you… uh… Attack a bikie or something?”

Marceline laughed. “Or something, yeah. Ex-boyfriend is a bit of a weirdo, he got me good.”

Cutlery clattered as Lady dropped a spoon on the bench, startled. “Your ex-boyfriend punched you?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“You should see his face,” Bonnie muttered. “Hey are we _ever_ going to see Finn again?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “Or has he ditched us for his new friends.”

“Oh no,” Bee called from the living room. “He’ll be here. He did say he was probably going to be late though. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Did he mention how his evening was last night?” Marceline put out, sliding up onto the counter. “I remember college parties. They can get wild.”

“Said he had a good time,” Bee said. “Oh, hey! Mind where you’re sticking that, Bub!” A loud crash came from the speakers in the lounge room followed by Bee swearing. “You’re getting good,” she grumbled.

The two of them were playing some rather violent shooting game with Marshall. Robert had been at a marked disadvantage to begin with, but he and Marshall spent their weekends practicing together and now he wasn’t such a weak link. Bonnie was pretty sure she detected a trace of admiration in Bee’s tone. She smiled.

Marceline started suddenly and smirked. “Be right back, phone’s ringing.” She pulled it from her pocket as she slipped off the counter and wandered down the hall, getting away from the loud explosions coming from the television.

“Hey, Elle,” Rain said, stopping beside her, watching as Jake headed into the living room to watch the competition. “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah, Rain,” she replied softly. And it was perfectly true. She was better than okay, she was spectacular. “It’s nice to have it off my chest, you know? I mean, sure, my mother will probably end up rupturing something in her head. But _I’m_ okay. This is good.”

Rain continued to frown at her for a moment, then nodded her head. “If you’re sure, then good. Their loss.”

“Exactly.”

There was a clattering at the door. Bonnie and Rain both leaned across the counter to peer down the short hall at the door. The knob twisted and it burst inwards, spewing Finn into the entrance. He had his green knapsack slung over one shoulder and a huge grin on his face.

“Hey, Elle, Rain,” he exclaimed, kicking his shoes off and trotting down to them. “How are you? How was the party last night, Elle? Lucy said it was pretty intense. She told everyone that your mother went _off_ the deep end. What happened?”

“Whoa, Finn,” Rain said fondly, returning his smile. “One invasive question at a time, please.” He went red. They’d all kind of expected him to grow out of his enthusiasm, but it hadn’t ever happened. Not that they minded, his vibrancy was refreshing. “The party was… interesting to say the least.” She cast a sidelong glance at Bonnie before straightening and heading back into the kitchen.

“What _did_ Lucy have to say about it?” Bonnie asked him, smiling too.

He shrugged. “Just that Cynthia was pretty cool – she even let Marceline ice a cake. I never get to ice her cakes.” He pouted there before shaking his head and continuing, “Then Lucy said after the cleaning up your mother went into a right rage. I think her words were ‘like a menacing thunderhead about to drop nuclear bombs’. Glad I missed it.”

Bonnie sighed. “Yeah, that about sums it up. And how was your evening? You didn’t get into too much trouble did you?” That was when Bonnie noticed a person standing behind Finn in the hall. She was small, her red hair stood out against the pale paint of the walls though so Bonnie didn’t know how she’d missed the girl. “Who’s your friend?”

Finn’s blush intensified ten-fold. “Uh…” he fidgeted, shuffling his feet nervously. “This is Hayden.” The girl waved brightly. “Hayden,” Finn mumbled, stepping aside slightly so she could see everyone crashed in the lounge room, “this is everyone.”

“It’s polite to give names, Finn,” Bonnie told him wryly, stepping around the divider and down the steps towards them. She offered a hand. “I’m Bonnibel,” she said gently. “Nice to meet you. A warning though; they’re all completely crazy.” She smiled, hoping to take the edge off her words.

“Hey, thanks,” Hayden replied, taking the hand. She didn’t seem nervous at all, just a little… out of her depth, perhaps? Maybe social situations weren’t her thing.

“Come on,” Bonnie said warmly. “I’ll introduce you while Finn cools down a bit.” They both glanced at Finn – still beet red – and headed for the living room. 

Rain was now perched on the arm of the chair Jake was slumped in, both of them watching with amused expressions as the other three slaughtered their digital avatars. Marshall was hunched protectively around his controller in a chair by himself while Bee and Robert sat companionably beside each other and appeared to be ganging up on him.

“That’s Rain,” Bonnie said, indicating her friend. “Her boyfriend, Jake. That dork is my brother, Robert, and over there is his roommate, Marshall. I suppose you know Bee?” She got a nod for that. “And…” Bonnie looked around. “Huh. Marceline is Marshall’s sister, but she’s… AWOL it would seem. They look much the same though; you can’t possibly mistake her for someone else.” She smiled at Hayden again, hoping it wasn’t too much for her, but the other woman was pretty fixated on the screen.

“Your brother’s pretty good,” Hayden commented.

“Hey thanks,” Marshall piped. “I take all the credit for teaching him everything he knows.”

“Shut up, Abadeer,” Robert growled. On the screen, Rob’s character put a bullet in Marshall’s and the game ended. “And that’s another win for me.”

“Are you guys gonna play again?” Hayden asked, stepping forward.

Rob blinked. “Who’s this?”

“My name’s Hayden McKenna,” she said, sinking down beside Marshall. “I’m a friend of Finns. Can I join in?”

With a wicked grin, Marshall handed her a spare controller. “Go right ahead. Maybe we can team up. I’m sick of losing to puff pastry over there.”

They all laughed raucously as Hayden selected her settings and another match began.

“Who’s the new chick?” Marceline asked softly, sidling up beside Bonnie.

“Friend of Finns,” Bonnie said gently. “Her name’s Hayden.”

Marceline glanced over her shoulder. “And where is the little dork?” she asked not unkindly. “He’s being very anti-social.”

“Probably just worried we wouldn’t like his friend.”

“You’re all very accepting people, Bon,” she replied with a sly smile and a raised eyebrow. “You practically adopted Marshall and me. I dare say she’ll receive similar treatment.”

Bonnie sighed. “We are an incredibly miss-matched group of oddballs.”

Finn bounced up beside them and frowned. “Aw, I was gonna play.”

Marceline smirked, peering past Bonnie to fix him with a cheeky smile. “You sure are gathering quite a harem, little man,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. “First Bee, now Hayden… What are we going to do with you?”

Once again, Finn turned bright red. “Oh, stop teasing him, Marceline,” Bonnie sighed. “Most of the women here are taken anyway. You can hardly blame him.”

Marceline snickered. “Wait,” she said, frowning suddenly. “What do you mean by ‘taken’?”

“Seriously?” Bonnie asked her dryly. “ _Seriously_? At the very least do some maths and realise that there are three who are completely out and then open your damn eyes and pay attention to Rob and Bee for just one minute.”

Marceline blinked. “Oh… Yeah okay, I get it.”

Bonnie patted her arm, absently. “Good job.”

In the kitchen, a timer went off, blaring strident shrieks at them insistently. Rob and Bee leapt to their feet and scurried into the kitchen to shut it off. Marshall, naturally, made good use of the distraction to destroy both of their characters, securing his victory.

“Dinner’s ready!” Robert called out from the stove. His hands were gloved in mauve mitts sporting little cat faces as he pulled a tray from the oven. “Come on right now if you want to eat this evening.”

It was funny, Bonnibel ruminated as she watched everyone heap food onto plates and negotiate rather loudly the seating arrangements. Funny how some people always ended up next to each other, she meant. And how unbalanced the table looked because of this. There were links; Marshall always sat opposite Marceline and beside Robert. Marceline glared at anyone who tried to sit next to her if that someone wasn’t Bonnie and Robert was practically glued at the hip with Bee these days. She supposed that cooking buddies had to stick close like that, but it was still amusing. Rain was seated on Bonnie’s other side, with Jake next to her of course, so he could ditch all the food he didn’t want on her (namely salad) and steal whatever chicken she had left over. Finn was perched beside Bee, but she was pretty engrossed discussing sugar to flour ratios with Rob. So Finn and Hayden – next to him – put their heads together and laughed about everyone else. It was weird and homey and Bonnie wouldn’t trade it for anything.

She blinked, but didn’t really need to look down to know Marceline was shovelling cherry tomatoes off her plate and onto Bonnie’s as fast as she could move her fork. This was her family, her best friends. A weight she hadn’t known was there vanished in a puff of clarity. Her parents might disapprove of Marceline and that was fine by her. She could live with that. She could take it. So long as her friends didn’t care, so long as she was happy. _This_ was how Christmas should have gone. She smiled.

“Hey,” she said lowly to Marceline. “What was that call about?”

“Oh… uh…” Marceline looked sheepish. “I can’t actually tell you.”

Her heart sank; worry starting to gnaw at the lining of her stomach. “I feel like I should be concerned,” she muttered. “Should I be worried by that or not?”

“Ah!” Marceline swallowed and looked at her, eyes intense. Bonnie wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else. “No! _God_ , no. It was just Keila. We have… um… an arrangement set up. She was just calling to confirm everything was set. That’s all.” Her face was still full of concern though. “I just… can’t tell you what it is. I need it to be a surprise.”

Bonnie frowned at her. It wasn’t a well-kept secret that Bonnie was no fan of surprises. But at the expression of anxiety painted in bright colours all over Marceline’s face, she couldn’t find it in herself to be overly worried. She sighed, “All right. Just so long as it isn’t something dangerous or stupid… or _both_ , then I guess I can be alright with that. Is it going to give me a heart attack?”

Marceline grimaced. “Probably? I know you don’t like surprises, but this is a good one. Consider it step one in my education program.”

Ok, now Bonnie was worried. Really, _really_ worried. She kept her apprehensions to herself though. There was absolutely no sense in making a big deal out of it. It was probably nothing anyway. Marceline was just hot air a lot of the time.

Dinner faded away in incomprehensively boring conversations… Well, alright it wasn’t boring, but… inane, yes that’s the word. _Inane_ conversations. But that was perfectly acceptable for Bonnie who was pretty over serious conversations. She needed a little inane.

Interestingly this evening, Rob and Bee took washing up duty. It was a chore that usually fell to Rain or Bonnie, but neither of them complained, they just sat in the lounge to wait, watching reruns of old sit-coms. Finn, despite trying to be serious about the whole thing, was just as animated as usual. No doubt because of the tree in the corner, lights blinking merrily as it guarded a pile of bags filled with brightly wrapped presents.

Bonnie’s family hadn’t done gift-giving at Christmas in a long time. The whole ordeal was too trying and they didn’t really care for it anyway. Birthdays, sure, then they’d do gifts, but at Christmas simply spending time together was usually good enough. Yet, for her friends, giving them stupid, trivial things was always amusing. Rain had given her knitting needles last year and despite her best attempts to master them; the only thing she’d been able to make was a lopsided scarf. A mostly useless article of clothing given Australian weather and its penchant for being mind-bogglingly hot _all the time_.

Once Rob and Bee were seated, Finn grabbed the first sack. There was a bag for each person, filled with presents from everyone else. He tossed them fervently across the room. “This is Rain’s,” he effused. 

Jake caught it and pulled out the first parcel, squishing it between his hands. Then he dropped it in his girlfriend’s lap. Brow knitted delicately, Rain pulled the string away and the paper fell onto the floor revealing a pile of woollen… _stuff_. She held it up, stretched it out and burst out laughing. “Thank you so much, Elle,” she exclaimed, wrapping the sort-of-scarf around her neck. “It’s beautiful.”

“Proof I put your gift to good use,” Bonnie told her, smiling.

Other things came out of Rain’s bag, including a bag that looked made of sequins and so many colours all jumbled together in nearly vomit inducing whorls. Inside was a note from Marceline and Marshall along with a pair of concert tickets. Marceline made a point of letting her know the bag was her brother’s idea.

Next was Jake, who ended up with a pile of plastic guns that fired foam bullets as well as a pair of tickets to a football match during final’s season. He was very excited for that and promised that if Rain didn’t make him go to the concert, he wouldn’t drag her to the match. Then he fired a clip of foam bullets at his brother just because… well, why not?

They had all chipped in for Bee’s gift. And hers was the only one Finn didn’t toss casually across the room. Instead, he stroked it almost reverently and beckoned her over. Curious, she tore into the paper revealing a shiny new gaming console. She fair squeaked in happiness as she noted the short stack of game cases that came with it. 

“Next generation butt-kicking here I come,” she exclaimed, eyes shining with happiness. “Thanks so much guys. Seriously. This is the best Christmas ever.”

Robert got a bag thrown at his head after that, not that anything could compete with the look of sheer joy on Bee’s face. In his sack was a water pistol from Marshall (Bonnie assumed it was a joke only they would get), a whole stack of cook books from Rain and Jake who claimed it was because one could never know too much about cooking. Bee had given him a waffle maker. He could make waffles without one, but she said every kitchen needed a waffle maker whether it was used or not. 

Marshall’s bag was smaller than most, but he took it well, even laughing when he pulled out Marceline’s gift: a lump of coal. She smiled at him innocently and he threw it at her. Bonnie barely got her head out of the way before it hit her instead. His gift from Robert was, interestingly enough, a water pistol. He almost lost it when he saw that, clutching himself around the middle as he howled. Oh yes, that was a personal joke right there. Bonnie wasn’t even curious enough to ask about it. Probably for the best.

Bonnie’s bag was the smallest and she knew precisely why. With the exception of a few joke gifts, her friends always bought her gift cards. And sometimes even they were jokes. Such as one she dug up this year, a card for an electronics store from Marshall. He seemed pretty convinced that she’d never spend it on anything, but already a few ideas bounced through her mind outlining practical uses she could put it to. None of them involved Marshall. She shot Marceline a curious glance when she realised there was nothing in there from her. She hadn’t actually expected anything, so she wasn’t let down at all, it was just that Marceline had been pretty curious about their gifting traditions. The smile she got from her friend made up for it though. More than made up for it. And she didn’t mind, she hadn’t gotten Marceline anything either. Bonnie stuck her tongue out at her.

Marceline pulled out a tambourine and a flute before her smile turned into a frown and she started glaring at everyone. “Ok, whose bright idea was this?” she grumbled. “Did you seriously all buy me instruments?” 

“You said you could play any instrument in existence,” Robert told her seriously. “We decided that was a challenge. We _will_ find one you can’t play.”

“Fat chance of that,” she grumbled, rummaging in the bag and coming up with a trumpet as well. “What the hey, guys?” she exclaimed, throwing them all forcefully back into the bag.

“I didn’t get you an instrument, sis,” Marshall said sweetly, smiling broadly at her.

Intrigued, Marceline stuck her head back in the bag and came up with a lump of coal. “Ha, ha,” she said, lobbing it at him.

“Alright, bro,” said Jake, leaning forwards, one elbow on his knee the other arm around Rain who was flicking through a book she’d found in her bag. “What’s in your stash, eh?”

Finn plucked at the strings of his bag looking anxious. “Do I want to look in here, Jake?” he asked carefully. Then a smile exploded across his face and evidently he decided he didn’t care. He pulled out a box. In it was a pair of daggers, medieval in appearance. Warily, he picked them up and turned them around.

“They’re Gaelic,” Marshall told him. “Authentic and everything. Since we know you like pointy things. From me and Marceline.”

Finn beamed at him and tucked the knives back in their box almost reverently. “Wow, thanks. I… don’t even know what to do with them.”

“Put them in a safe box,” Marceline told him. “They’re crazy valuable. Like, find-in-a-museum valuable.”

His jaw dropped. “Holy cake… ok.” Next he pulled out a fedora and a magnifying glass. There was an engraving on the handle of the glass; he had to squint to read it. Then he burst out laughing. “I don’t think I’m the next Sherlock Holmes, Jake, but thank you.” He settled the hat on his head and dove in again. A season pass to laser tag for up to twelve people was removed, not signed from anyone, but he knew it was Bonnie’s and flashed her a smile. He also found a video game from Bee and was even more excited than usual for it. “Oh man,” he exclaimed, “I _love_ adventure games!”

Bonnie was struck by guilt, seeing Hayden sitting there beside Finn while everyone else received gifts. Not knowing what the girl liked, she had no idea what would constitute an appropriate gift. Still, she pulled out a gift card for Dillory’s from Rain and slid it over to her.

“Finn probably didn’t warn you that we do Christmas on Boxing Day,” she muttered. “Here, from me and Marceline.”

Hayden’s eyes widened and she threw her hands up, trying to push the card away. “Oh no, don’t worry about it. I’m fine, really.”

Bonnie just smiled. “Take the card, Hayden. Merry Christmas.”

The other woman’s face turned a shade of red that matched her hair and tentatively took the card from Bonnie. “Thanks,” she said softly.

“Yeah, hey!” Jake called. “Poor Hayden had to sit there while we did Christmas! Let me give you something.” And then he fired one of his foam guns at her, peppering her shoulder with projectiles. It was a good thing she had a sense of humour, otherwise that might have gone over wrong. Instead, she snatched one of his other guns up and returned fire.

“Merry Christmas, Jake,” she laughed.

“I demand a movie!” Marshall declaimed, waving one of his gifts in the air. Jake, still chuckling, set aside his weapon and peered at the title.

“Oh yes,” Finn said, knowing what the movie was since he’d bought it. “Let’s watch it. Right now.”

Robert stood. “I’ll go make some popcorn, yeah?”

Bee smirked. “I, for one, demand a performance from Marceline. I have to know if she can play all of those. Surely one of them will stump her.”

There was silence for a moment and Marceline’s eyes shot wide open. “Oh no,” she breathed. “No, no. No. Absolutely not. No.”

“So,” Bee taunted, “I take it that means one of them you really _can’t_ play then?”

“Yeah,” Finn piped up. “We need proof!”

“Please save me,” Marceline whispered, grabbing Bonnie’s elbow. “I have… performance jitters.”

“Don’t lie,” Bonnie said amiably. “You had this coming you know. As soon as you said you could play any instrument you were _bound_ to get a reaction.”

“I didn’t expect it to be so… _pronounced_ ,” she grumbled. Taking a deep breath, Marceline sighed, “Fine. Ugh. Get ready to eat your words.” So she played. Tamborine, flute, trumpet, there was even an ocarina which she played just as beautifully as all the rest. Suffice it to say, everyone was stunned. Marceline grinned triumphantly. “Told you so.”

“Popcorn,” Robert muttered, shaking himself. He’d been standing in the doorway watching and only now was he getting around to dropping bowls of warm food in their laps. “And movie.” Marshall hit play on the remote and Bee jumped up to turn out the lights. This time, Marshall was the one on the floor, his chair having been commandeered by Finn and Hayden.

Bonnie curled up on her chair, leaning against Marceline; feet tucked up beneath her and smiled. The light from the excessively large screen didn’t bother her as much as it had the last time and neither did the sound. It was pleasant. Even the movie was good – not a horror which was a huge bonus in her book – because Finn had bought it, naturally it was adventurous and, having read the book, she was braced for all the goings on. The Hobbit was one of her favourites and lacked ferocious, stealthy aliens of any kind. Or chainsaw wielding psychos.

Marceline’s arm wound around her waist and pulled her closer. “Sleepy yet, Bon?” she murmured into the top of Bonnie’s head. Her other hand was fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“Not really,” she admitted, surprised to find it was the truth. “Too much sugar maybe.”

“Maybe,” Marceline chuckled. She felt tense though and Bonnie looked up at her, fingers of one hand wound through her hair, tugging softly to get her attention. “Yeah?”

“Are you alright? You seem a bit… worried… or something.”

Her shoulders shivered with quiet laughter. “You didn’t get me a present, Bonnibel,” she said in a low voice, dark and warm. It made a tingle dance across Bonnie’s shoulders.

“You didn’t get me one either.”

“Actually I did. You can’t have it yet.” She glanced over Bonnie’s head at the others. “It’s not a gift I can give you in front of… others.” Bonnie felt her face go bright red.

“Um… do I want to know?”

“It’s a solution to a problem, Bonnie B,” Marceline chortled. “Get that pretty head of yours out of the gutter. I’ll tell you later.” She paused. Then, “You still didn’t get me a present. I’m hurt you know.”

Bonnie traced patterns across Marceline’s stomach, trying not to laugh. “Or maybe I _did_ get you a present and – like yours – I can’t give it to you while we have company.” She glanced up at Marceline from under her brow. “And,” she added, noting the purple tinge creeping across Marceline’s cheeks, “you may feel free to stick your head in whichever gutter you like. Thank you.”

It took very obvious restraint on Marceline’s part not to go into shock right then and there. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek like it would save her from some terrible fate. “Uh…” she croaked at length. “Yeah… okay, sure… Whatever you say.” The purple in her cheeks darkened and she looked away from Bonnie, huffing. “Watch the movie or go to sleep would you?”

Bonnie laughed and did first one of the suggestions and then the other. Happy – oh so very happy – to fall asleep on a lounge chair with her arms wrapped around Marceline’s middle.


	28. A Thing About You

The door clicked shut softly and not long after, the seat beside her dipped, now bearing extra weight. Marceline sighed. “Simon took your serum thingie,” she said sadly. “He is now nothing more than a fifty-six year old man with eye problems.”

Bonnie reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry, really. Honestly, I didn’t expect to have any kind of… I didn’t expect to find anything, Marcy.” She tried to catch Marceline’s eyes, but the other woman was staring resolutely at the television. “Hey. I’m sorry, okay?” There was no point asking if she’d be alright, that was stupid. She’d known the man for thousands of years. Marceline wasn’t alright. She slid closer and wrapped her fingers around Marceline’s other wrist too, it was pretty pathetic, but it was the best she could do.

Marceline opened her mouth, closed it again. Then, croakily, she inquired, “Would… Would your serum…? Would it work on me?”

Bonnie’s heart crumpled. She knew why Marceline was asking and she desperately wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear. But that wouldn’t be the truth and she knew she couldn’t lie. Twisting in her seat, she curled her hands around Marceline’s neck, thumbs on her cheeks, forcing the other woman to make eye contact. “No, Marceline,” she whispered. “No it won’t work on you.”

“Why?”

“Because both he and Ash have something you don’t,” she murmured, running the tips of two fingers along Marceline’s jaw until they rested just underneath on her throat. “A heartbeat.”

Marceline blinked, eyes refocusing now. “What do you mean? I thought it just stripped them of their magic and junk.”

“It does, Marceline, but _your_ magic is keeping you alive,” she said, feeling like she was giving the _worst_ news ever. “You are – for all intents and purposes – an animated corpse. Without your magic… you become… a regular corpse.”

“Oh,” she replied slowly. “Well that sucks. I was kind of hoping you could mix some of that stuff up and I could be human.” Marceline hesitated as though unsure whether she wanted to voice a thought. She did eventually though, “Rather than me making you dead…”

Bonnie let her forehead rest against Marceline’s for a moment, thinking. “You don’t have to come with me tonight, you know,” she muttered at length. “You could just stay here. If you want.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Because of Simon.”

Marceline smiled wryly. “Oh don’t worry about it. He’s not gone yet. And while he is now suddenly very fragile,” she frowned as she said that as if only just realising it herself, “I have a modicum of hope that dad will convince him to pursue some other form of longevity. He might not succeed, but… Gotta try right?”

“I really am sorry, Marceline,” Bonnie said again.

“Why, Bon?”

“Because I’m the reason he’s mortal now. _I’m_ the reason you’re going to lose him. And I’m sorry for that. I should never have offered.”

Now Marceline’s smile became a little more sincere and she pulled Bonnie onto her lap. “Hey, sure he’s going to die and that’s going to make me very sad. But at least he’ll die _himself_ and not some weird parody of a man with no memories.” Her eyes went blank for the merest of seconds as though living out that very scenario. “I don’t think I could live with it if he ever forgot who I was, Bonnie. You saved his mind. I’m _thanking_ you, not condemning you.”

That took a while to digest. But when it did sink in, “You still don’t have to come tonight.”

Marceline shook her head. “When’s it start?”

“Seven. Eat beforehand, there will only be nibblies.”

“Why so late?”

Bonnie smiled. “Because it’s _New Years’_ , the… party will last until midnight at least. Do you want to turn up earlier?” 

Marceline laughed at her. “No, not really.” She leaned in to kiss her briefly and then slid Bonnie onto the lounge. “I should get going then.”

Bonnie frowned, partly because she’d basically just been unceremoniously dumped onto the sofa, and partly because she was confused. “But you just got back,” she pointed out. “Where are you going now?”

“It’s a secret,” Marceline sang, winking at her. She laughed again as Bonnie pouted – she didn’t often pout, it was unbecoming. “Oh don’t worry your little soul, Bonnibel,” Marceline said softly, opening the door again. “You’ll find out soon enough.” With that she was gone, leaving Bonnie to ponder what she’d meant.

Pondering was bad.

Unhappily, she had no work to do. Normally, she was swamped in tasks and research papers, but not over the break. Hunter had generously – to his mind anyway – given her a month off in lieu of Ash’s stupidity. He had burned all her notes too. At first she’d been pretty miffed about that, but given the sensitive nature of the information, she could see the wisdom. At least this way she wouldn’t have to worry about being kidnapped and interrogated. Well… that could theoretically still happen, but wasn’t likely to be too much trouble. After all, she only knew the science behind it, and had no idea what sort of magical things Hunter had done to it to make it work. That was beyond her.

So she had to find other ways to occupy her mind for the afternoon. She thought about calling Rain, but didn’t want to alert any of her friends to the possibility that she’d be crashing the party that night. And if she called Rain, that would come up and it would be inescapable. Instead of this, Bonnie did some reading. Marceline had quite a selection of novels (mostly fiction) in her room, very few of which interested Bonnie. One science fiction title caught her eye though and she spent a little over an hour reading that before the ‘science’ part had her in fits of nearly uncontrollable laughter and she had to put it down. Whoever had written it clearly had no idea what they were talking about.

Curiosity got her to look up some of the more accurate ideas in the story however. This soon managed to get her entrenched in research on things that would probably never happen. Learning about lasers, for instance – and recalling the beam of light that had scythed through Hunter’s building earlier in the week – she devoured a good deal of speculation on the topic. Naturally, that led her off on all kinds of tangents that weren’t relevant, but were interesting.

It wasn’t until her stomach began to complain that she even noticed the light was failing in her room. Blinking, she glanced over at the clock. It seemed to be telling her that it was quarter to five… that couldn’t be right though… surely…

No, every other clock in the apartment was telling her the same thing. She cursed. Hastily, she dug around in the fridge; warmed up some Chinese left over from the other day and wolfed it down. Shower, dressed, bag, ready to go – she checked the clock again (this time the one on her phone) – 5.19pm it said now. She was going to be late and…

Marceline wasn’t home yet. Bonnie sighed and sent her a text asking when she was going to be home. She waited, twitching nervously. Oh, not because she was going to be late, crashers are never late according to Marceline, but because… Wait, why was she nervous? Her phone beeped.

 _I’ll meet you there_ , Marceline’s text informed her. _I’m not even close to done here. Don’t wait_.

Grumbling, she did as suggested and snatched her keys from the table, stalking out her door. She continued to mutter under her breath all the way to her car. Mostly she was just peeved that Marceline hadn’t given any warning, she could’ve left earlier. Her phone started beeping again.

“Hello, Rain,” she said, answering it, glad she hadn’t started driving yet. “What’s up?”

“Just wondering what you’re doing tonight,” Rain replied, voice crackling through the line. “Since it’s New Years’ and all. I wanted to know if you had plans or some such. Jake and I are at your parents’ place, but we can leave if you want to do something.”

“No, that’s fine. I have plans this evening anyway, don’t worry.”

There was a moment of fuzzy silence. Then Rain mentioned a little too innocuously, “You have plans? Already? What kind of plans?”

 _Damn_ , she mentally scolded herself. “Uh…” she said aloud, scouring her brainpan for a viable excuse. “Just plans with Marceline,” she eventually decided was a safe enough answer. 

“Oh,” Rain replied, long and drawn out. “Oh, alright then. You kids have fun.”

Bonnie went bright red. Not just regular red either, she was that perfect shade of red one can buy in a paint tube from the art shop down the street. Vibrant and obnoxious and so very, very _red_. She got the impression Rain had misunderstood her ‘plans’. 

“Um… Rain… I promise it’s harmless…?”

Laughter burbled through the phone. “Whatever you say, Elle. Whatever you say. I’ll see you later then. Don’t have too much of a good time, you hear me?”

She sighed. “Sure, Rain. I hear you. See you.”

The phone clicked disconnected and she exhaled again, slightly heavier this time. Her grumbling began anew as she keyed her car softly to life and headed out. The engine grumbled with her the whole way to her parents’ house. Bonnie thought perhaps that wasn’t such a good sound it was making; she’d have it serviced next week. The sky darkened as she drove, setting behind her in a watercolour wash of pastel yellows and oranges and reds, streaks of crimson and pink scribbling across the sky like livewires. Of course, pretty as it was, it also glared off her rear view mirror. Bonnie added that to the list of things she could grumble about.

Nearly two hours was supremely boring now, she noticed, surprised. She had no music or singing or laughter without Marceline in the car with her making the trip feel longer than it really was. It shouldn’t have shocked her to find the drive so empty, but it did. Another thing that hit harder than she’d expected was her lack of nerves. None. Not so much as a speck of doubt or anxiety sparked around in her stomach causing annoyance. She was… calm. The thought made her smile as she pulled up at her mother’s meticulously maintained doorstep.

Unlike last time (and the time before that), Bonnie didn’t even hesitate as she stepped out of the car, bag over her shoulder. The tinsel had been replaced in the trees with streamers, although the coloured lanterns and fairy lights still looked like a sea of stars anywhere they could be strung up. There were cars already there, most of the guests having arrived _before_ seven. Bonnie checked the clock on her phone again noting that it was nearly eight and she was _spectacularly_ late. Marceline would call it fashionable. Bonnie decided she didn’t really care enough to label it.

Smiling, she crossed the gravel path to Manfred, sporting sunglasses even in the dim light of the evening. He smiled when he saw her and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good evening, Manfred,” she said, slowing to a stop. Bonnie always had a conversation with him which was why she wasn’t at all worried about being let through. Even if she wasn’t on the list. “Looking dapper as always.”

“Good evening, Bonnibel,” he replied in his gentle baritone, inclining his head. “You are remarkably late, you know. Normally you’re here two hours early.”

Her smile widened a trifle. “Oh yes, well. It’s good to mix things up now and then. Or so I’m told.”

He snorted, motioning a hand at her dress. “It seems you’re mixing up an awful lot today.”

“Why, Manfred,” she gasped in feigned indignation. “Do you disapprove of my dress?”

Manfred chuckled. “Not at all. You may wear what you like. A little black dress is very unlike you though. Especially when there’s no fellow in your life.” There was a little something hidden between his words there that Bonnie was hesitant to even examine. Coming from Manfred it wasn’t weird (not any weirder than it would be coming from her father anyway), but the idea of what he was suggesting still seemed odd to her.

“I don’t think I’m required to have an audience to wear a little black dress, Manfred,” she told him wryly. “Appreciating something can be done in many different ways. Perhaps I might be able to say that my wardrobe was lacking this evening, all my other dresses having been worn to other parties, and this was the only one left. Suitable reason to wear it then?”

He boomed a laugh. “I have a feeling, Bonnibel, that you bought this dress specifically for this evening. I heard you got your mother in a tizzy on Christmas, but not how. And I don’t want to know. As much as I would like to believe you aren’t dressed like that to annoy her… given recent events, it stands to reason that you are just trying to irritate her.”

“Deliberate antagonism isn’t in my nature,” she told him sweetly.

He harrumphed. “No guest this evening either?”

“Marceline isn’t on the list, Manfred.”

With a swift snap of his eyes down the guest list he determined the truth of her words. “So she isn’t. And I would have suggested utilising your plus one for her, but neither are you.”

She waved a hand. “I don’t ever plan on using my plus one, thank you. That would be conforming and I-” she paused as if just hearing it for the first time. Then, “I’m not on the list?”

“No, you’re not. Must be a typo.”

“That’s weird.” She chewed her lip for a moment as if thinking, then smiled brightly. “Have a good evening, Manfred. Don’t crush too many skulls, alright?”

Manfred just laughed again as she headed through the arch and into the backyard. As it had been at Christmas, the pavilion was set up on the lawn, although this time, most of it was filled with a circular stage and sound equipment. Unusually, no band was on said stage. Most curious.

Her eyes raked across the yard, searching for anyone she knew. It was markedly smaller than it had been last year, she noticed. But other than a few families who weren’t in attendance, she wasn’t let down. Lucy was over by the punch bowl with Candice and Cherry. Daniel was lounging in a chair not far off, keeping one eye on his slippery girlfriend and the other on Norman, with whom he was conversing. A whole host of other people she knew from various times in her life were also present. The Father from her local church and his wife and son, at least a dozen of her biological father’s co-workers, even some of her mother’s… associates. Bonnie was pretty convinced Cynthia didn’t have many _genuine_ friends; she was too controlling and distant for that. Rain and Jake were on the other side of the yard to Lucy, probably sick of her theories on what had gone down at Christmas. Robert was with them and – despite what Bonnie had predicted to the contrary – so was Marshall. She headed in their direction.

Rain, naturally, was the first to spot her and when her mouth fell open it didn’t take the others long to locate her either. She stopped at their table and smiled at all four pairs of bug-eyed incredulous faces.

Marshall whistled. “It’s such a crying shame you’re gay you know?” he told her, recovering first of them all. “I guarantee you that any guy in the world would appreciate that dress more than my sister does.”

“Your sister hasn’t seen it,” Bonnie told him slyly. “I haven’t seen her either, not in hours.” The look she gave him demanded to be informed on what was happening, but he just went that odd purple shade that indicated a blushing vampire and scuttled from his seat, disappearing into the crowd.

“What’s with the dress then, Elle?” Rain asked amused. “Just another act of rebellion? And weren’t you uninvited?”

Bonnie shrugged, pilfering the seat Marshall had so recently vacated. “Not quite rebellion, no. More… a statement. And I was uninvited, correct. I believe this is called _crashing_.”

Jake hooted at that. “My you _are_ a rebel these days, Elle,” he positively cackled with glee.

“I do my best,” she replied dryly before turning her gaze to her brother. “Explain something to me,” she began. “Did you bring Marshall as your plus one? Because if you did, I’m going to slap you.”

His eyes widened. “Uh… yeah I did. Please don’t slap me. He said it was important that he be here this evening. Why?”

More grumbling ensued. “You should have invited _Bee_ ,” she said exasperatedly. “I don’t care what Marshall said.”

“Bee’s busy tonight,” Jake intervened quickly. It probably saved Rob from saying something stupid. “She’s the technician at the college party Finn’s gone too. She set up the fireworks.” He paused, thinking, and then tacked on a little sheepishly, “Also, Finn’s not coming. He’s at a college party with Bee and Hayden.”

“Are those two a thing or not?” Robert asked quietly. “Is it her he’s been ditching us for? Not that I’m bothered by that, mind you,” he hastened to assure them all. “Good for him and all that. I’m just curious.”

Jake frowned. “I don’t think he’s actually asked her out yet, to be honest,” he admitted gradually. “They’re in a group for some law class and have to spend a lot of time together. He might ask her out, he might not. He does like her though.”

“I hope it works out for him,” Bonnie muttered, twisting in her seat to watch the people around them. There was still no band. Her mother must be having a breakdown. “Hey, Rob, does mum know you brought Marshall with?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Bonnie saw her brother go pink. “Well… actually no, she doesn’t.”

“And did he, perchance, happen to mention _why_ it was important to be here this evening?”

His face turned a somewhat darker shade of pink. “Again… no.”

“Hm.”

Further speculation was cut off as Marshall came slinking back to their table looking very much like an underfed dog having just been scolded by his master. “What’s gotten you looking so sad, Marshall?” Rob asked flatly. “Did a girl throw punch at you?”

“The band isn’t coming,” he said. “I just heard from Lucy. Apparently their car broke down, engine troubles. They’re still nearly two hours away and don’t have phone reception.”

“If they don’t have reception,” Bonnie mused. “Then how did we find out they broke down?”

Marshall opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again with a click when he realised there wasn’t actually a response to that. Well, not a verbal one anyway. He turned and fled again.

“I have a bad feeling,” Rain murmured. “Is he planning something do you think, Rob?”

“Probably,” he groused. “He’s been acting like this for three days. Something is up; I just don’t know what yet.”

Nine o’clock came and went. It was an uneventful hour. With the exception of Lucy joining them for a few minutes to discuss the scandal that was the missing band. She gave them the same story Marshall had, naturally, but that didn’t mean a great deal, Lucy was as reliable as she was untrustworthy. Often leaning more towards the latter. Bonnie still hadn’t spied her mother, but that was alright by her.

When ten o’clock rolled around, Cynthia exploded from the house, stalked to the pavilion, removed something small from a box by one support (slamming the lid hard enough for the sound to ring across the yard) and stormed back inside. Everyone was left staring around in confusion and not a little concerned by it. Cynthia was well known to have a quicksilver temper, but she rarely let it get the better of her when she had company.

The clock mounted on the front of the pavilion struck eleven and Bonnie was tired. It was well and truly past her bedtime. Okay, so she didn’t actually have an enforced curfew, but she was usually asleep by ten so she could get up early. Daylight was important.

Most of the guests remained in the yard, but the mood had progressively dimmed and nearly all had given up on the band ever arriving. That was, at least, until the microphone let out a hash of stutter and _scrrrrrrnngggged_ sharply. It was followed by tapping and the sound of an instrument, low and throbbing, letting out a twang across the yard.

“Your scheduled entertainment was regrettably unable to be here this evening,” said a voice Bonnie would know anywhere. “So… We’re your replacement band. Sort of. We are terribly sorry for being late, but this was kinda short notice.”

People had stopped and gathered around the pavilion now to look and Bonnie – seated as she was further away from the cupola – couldn’t see past them. But her heart was doing a mad parody of a gymnastics routine in her chest, part panic, part overwhelming fondness. It was exceedingly bizarre. Everyone at her table stood, exchanged wondering glances, and moved closer. Lucy was, blissfully, on the other side of the yard and couldn’t interpret the look on Bonnie’s face.

“Yeah, so. This is New Years’ people; smile.” Polite applause followed that. Although it was interrupted after mere moments by another deep note, vibrating through the air. “To start off what’s left of the night, I’ve got this song for a very special person. You ready?”

Then, surprising Bonnibel completely, she began to sing. Bonnie hadn’t even expected it, standing here in the flesh. In private, sure, but Bonnie hadn’t thought to hear that voice sing in public.

“ _It’s been a year_  
 _Filled with problems_  
 _But now you’re here_  
 _Almost as if to solve them_  
 _And I can’t live in a world without you now._ ”

Slowly, she pressed through the people, weaving around until she could see the stage. What she saw was even more of a surprise than she’d been ready for. Not just one person stood there, but four. She blinked, realising at the same moment that only one was playing an instrument.

“ _All my life_  
 _I’ve been searching for you._  
 _How did I survive,_  
 _In this world before you?_  
 _Cause I don’t wanna live another day without you now._ ”

Keila was there, sitting on a stool between Bongo and Guy. They’d somehow managed to get all their gear onto the stage without being seen. Bonnie suspected that Bongo was mostly the reason for that. Being able to turn invisible came in handy for pranks, Marceline had said. This certainly counted.

“ _This is the best thing,_  
 _The best thing that could be happening._  
 _And I think you would agree;_  
 _The best thing is that it’s_  
 _Happening to you and me._ ”

Marceline finally looked around and saw her. Bonnie’s face was written mostly with shock, but that was nothing compared to the expression Marceline was suddenly wearing. She almost spluttered, blinking, eyes wide, fingers freezing for the briefest of moments on the chords of her bright red bass. Then the surprise was gone, replaced with that smouldering look she often wore and the biggest smile Bonnie had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

“ _All I wanna have_  
 _Is all that you can give me._  
 _And I’ll give right back_  
 _Everything I have in me._  
 _Cause nothing ever felt as right_  
 _As this does now._ ”

Of course, that was when Cynthia and Alex appeared from inside the house. At first, her mother had seemed happy that the band had finally started playing. That vanished in a cloud of smoke when she realised the band included Marceline. Still, her dislike of the woman warred with the relief, neither winning so far as Bonnie could tell. Her dad though, he was impressed, nothing else. Impressed and grinning. Neither of them saw Bonnie, they were both too transfixed by Marceline. Shocking.

“ _I’ll go back to before we met_  
 _Try and erase the past,_  
 _Try harder to forget ‘cause_  
 _Nothing will ever be as good as here and now._  
 _‘Cause when I looked into your eyes_  
 _And you dared to stare right back_  
 _You should’ve said, ‘Nice to meet you, I’m your other half’_.”

Nope, that was her mother’s face changing too. Beneath her fragile veneer, Bonnie could tell Cynthia was still angry at Marceline, still didn’t like her. But she was also fascinated, intrigued and perhaps… perhaps… Yes, that’s what she’d thought. Bonnie did a double take as her mother smiled. Smiled. Marceline saw that smile and she beamed right back.

“ _And this is the best thing,_  
 _The best thing that could be happening._  
 _And I think you would agree;_  
 _The best thing is that it’s happening…_  
 _This is the best thing,_  
 _The best thing that could be happening._  
 _And I think you would agree;_  
 _The best thing is that it’s_  
 _Happening to you and me._ ”

Rain elbowed in beside her, staring first at Marceline and then back at Bonnie. She was smiling too. She bumped her shoulder against Bonnie’s. Even as Jake and Rob pushed up as well, also grinning madly, Bonnie realised why they were looking at her like that. It made her heart stop, her stomach did a backflip and she risked a glance at her parents, wondering if they’d noticed it too. She prayed they thought it was simply an innocuous song. Prayed. But didn’t really believe it.

“ _Always knew I’d find someone._  
 _I never dreamt it’d be like this._  
 _You’ve surpassed all that I’ve hoped for and ever wished._  
 _And I’m trying so hard, with all my heart and mind_  
 _To make your life as good as you’ve made mine._  
 _This is the best thing,_  
 _The best thing that could be happening._  
 _And I think you would agree;_  
 _The best thing is that it’s_  
 _Happening to you and me._  
 _The best thing is that it’s_  
 _Happening to you and me._ ”

For a moment, as the last note faded away, there was stunned silence. Then there was applause, less polite and more ‘holy cake did we just hear that’ in nature. And it was only then, no longer so mesmerised by Marceline’s singing, that she noticed what the other woman was wearing. It was enough to make her shake her head and smile wryly.

It was not a dress. It was black pants, polished black shoes, black vest, even a black tie and a scarlet shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Marceline smirked and bounced on the balls of her feet. Although that didn’t last, because suddenly Cynthia was wearing her unhappy face again and she gestured for Marceline to follow her.

Bonnie met her mother’s gaze briefly and the glare practically pinned her to her place. It was a silent instruction to stay put. So naturally she ignored it.

 _I’ve already broken so many common sense rules, crossed so many polite boundaries, why not add ‘eavesdropping’ to my list of sins_ , she silently justified as she trailed them.

Marceline had already followed her parents inside by the time Bonnie reached the back door. They were all standing in the living room, facing mostly away from her and talking loudly enough that she could hear only parts of what they were saying. Knowing it was a terrible idea; Bonnie leaned against the wall and listened in. As the conversation went on though, it grew louder and less garbled.

“…. I was sure I made myself clear,” her mother was saying coldly. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Her father chimed in, softer, Bonnie couldn’t hear what he said, but it was no doubt supporting his wife’s statement.

“Actually no,” Marceline replied sounding very calm considering. “You told _Bonnie_ not to tell anyone. And besides, I didn’t say anything.”

“You sang a _love song_ in front of everyone,” Cynthia seethed.

Marceline snorted. “They don’t know who it was for.”

Alex added something brief.

“I doubt that. Everyone thinks she’s just exactly how you like her,” Marceline said tartly. “She’s your golden child who never does anything wrong, never steps out of line and above all, she never lets you down. Lucy can say what she likes.”

“People believed Lucy when she told everyone Bonnibel had slept with Charlie King.” Cynthia’s tone was hotter now, her anger growing. “They’ll believe anything Lucy Pinterry tells them. They always have.”

Bonnie could only imagine Marceline’s face at that. She… hadn’t ever told her friend about that. Of course, she _hadn’t_ slept with Charlie, but that hadn’t stopped Lucy from telling everyone she had. It had prompted some rather uncomfortable conversations with her parents, a trip to the doctor and an expulsion notice to be delivered to Charlie.

“Oh… kay…” Marceline said slowly. “But that was in high school, that’s different. Besides, Lucy would never even consider the possibility that Bonnie’s gay. She wouldn’t. None of them would. Like I said, Bon’s very good at looking perfect for everyone. I doubt any of them would believe it if she ran a red light.”

“Keep this secret, Miss Abadeer,” her mother hissed. “Keep it well. I don’t want anyone finding out about this.”

This time, Marceline actually laughed. “Why? In case she wakes up one morning and thinks ‘huh, I guess I am straight after all’?” She paused, Bonnie thought Alex might have spoken again but she wasn’t sure. “Look, I get it,” Marceline went on. “You don’t want to ruin your image or whatever nonsense you tell yourself. You like contingencies and secrets and being in control. I get that. I get that you don’t like me and you never will. But that – singing that out there just then – that was my idea. All mine. I didn’t even tell Bonnie I was planning it. I don’t care if you hate me, go right on ahead and do that. But don’t hate her.”

“We… don’t hate her,” Cynthia said carefully. “She’s our daughter; we’ll always love her dearly.” Her pause then was weighted; even in another room Bonnie could feel it. She didn’t speak again for a long time either. Then, very slowly, “I don’t… _hate_ you, Marceline,” she said. “I thoroughly disapprove of this though. And you’re right; I probably won’t ever like you. Not until you’re a world away from my daughter anyway.”

“Mrs B,” Marceline said, and Bonnie could hear the smile in her voice. “If she ever asks me to leave. _Ever_. If the thought crosses her mind in any kind of way that she wants me out of her life, I’ll go. I don’t want to. But I want her to be happy. I want to… to give her the heavens on a necklace…” she trailed off there, probably frowning at herself for not being able to formulate coherent sentences. “I’m in love with your daughter,” she said at length. “I will do anything she asks of me. Anything, no matter how stupid it seems. I _will_ walk away if she wants me gone. I promise you that. But only if _she_ wants it. Not you. And _if_ I go, I’ll leave everything I have here with her.” She paused again and Bonnie could picture her chewing the inside of her cheek, shifting from one foot to the other, hands in her pockets, staring nervously at the ceiling. Marceline resumed speaking much softer than before and Bonnie had to strain to hear, even though her ears were burning and her heart was pounding so hard she didn’t think she’d be able to make it out. “I love her more than anything; she can tell me to go and I will. She can keep my heart though. No matter what else happens, that will always be hers to do with as she will.”

That was quite a speech for Marceline. Bonnie was pretty sure she’d never heard that many words about emotions come out of her mouth before that weren’t song lyrics. Her knees felt like jelly again, not from anxiety this time though, from something else. From something that made her ache on the inside, it made her want to fall to the decking and cry. It made her want to dance at the same time and that was weird.

She was so busy trying to sort all that out and calm down that she missed what her mother said. Her father added something inaudible but Marceline didn’t say anything else. There was silence from inside for a long time and Bonnie wondered if she should risk falling down the stairs with her wobbly legs just to get away. She’d _hate_ to be caught eavesdropping.

“I don’t like you,” Cynthia’s voice said causing Bonnie to delay her attempt to walk away. “I don’t. I will blame you for… Bonnibel’s current… condition.” Bonnie imagined her mother taking a deep breath to steady herself then. It probably wasn’t true. Although… her next words were extremely out of character. “But you make her smile. I’ve seen it. I saw the way she looked at you this evening. I don’t like you. I probably never will… but for whatever reason, I will tolerate you. So _long_ as you do _not_ under any circumstances flaunt this… this _relationship_ you have.”

“So… what then? Are you gonna kick me out?”

Alex chuckled. His words were still too low for Bonnie to make out, but it didn’t sound as if he said something bad. Cynthia added something quietly too. She wasn’t laughing.

“Secrets have a cost you know,” Marceline told them. “I know that. They can’t be kept forever. Eventually, someone will find out and then the beans are spilled. I know you don’t want my advice, and normally I wouldn’t give it if it wasn’t asked for. This time though… eh. Tell people on your terms and the power remains with you, but if the secret slips out and you’re not prepared… you lose any modicum of control you started with. Just a thought.”

Bonnie exhaled when Marceline used the magic word. The idea of losing control was, to Cynthia, anathema. She would never let it happen if she could prevent it. The silence in the room lengthened before Alex spoke again, just as softly as before. Bonnie, assuming the conversation was just about done anyway, took that as her cue to stagger down the steps. Happily, she retained her balance until she sank gratefully into the chair she’d left earlier upon Marceline’s arrival.

“Did you drop some eaves on their conversation, eh, Bonnie?” Marshall asked from beside her. “What did they say?”

“None of your business,” Bonnie replied. Her ears finally noticed that Keila and the others had continued playing. Softer music than Marceline’s initial song, but it was enough that the mood finally picked up.

“You didn’t tell me your roommate could sing like that, Elle,” Lucy prattled, sliding up with Daniel on her arm. “She has the voice of an angel.”

“Careful there,” Marshall joked, eyes sparkling. “Poor Dan will think you’re gonna dump him for my sister.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I should think by now my sexuality is no longer under scrutiny,” she said dryly. “Besides,” she went on, letting go of Dan’s arm to circle the table and prod Marshall in the shoulder. “If I was going to dump a guy, it wouldn’t be on New Years’ Eve. That’s horrible.”

“She did ditch a guy on Valentine’s Day though,” Bonnie warned Daniel lowly so Lucy couldn’t hear. “I hope we see you next year.”

He sighed, but didn’t have a chance to respond before Lucy grabbed him by the hand and dragged him off to dance. A space had been left open for the possibility, but lacking music, no one had bothered earlier. Also it was kind of stupid; Bonnie had always thought it was silly. Very high-school-dance of them.

Lucy and Daniel were replaced not long later by Marceline, looking rather pleased with herself. She smirked at Bonnie and Marshall before sinking into a chair across from them. At which point she promptly ignored them both, opting instead to watch everyone standing around. A surprising number of people were dancing, Bonnie noticed. She felt sorry for Candice who was the only one of her friends present not doing that.

“If I go over and ask her to dance,” Marshall sighed, nodding at Candice. “Do you think she’ll hit me?”

“Not if you keep all appendages to yourself,” Bonnie told him sombrely.

He blinked at that, but pushed his chair back and went over to keep her company. They didn’t dance, Candy wasn’t very coordinated, but she smiled to have someone to talk to. Even if it was Marshall and he was a bit of a clumsy oaf when it came to conversation. Much like his sister, now Bonnie thought about it.

Speaking of whom, Marceline now turned her attention to Bonne, head to one side as she smiled. “You’re not going to ask me what happened are you.”

“If I was meant to know,” Bonnie said as cryptically as she could manage, “I would’ve been invited to join the conversation from the start.”

Marceline laughed. “Which is code for ‘I listened in’ isn’t it?”

Bonnie tried with all her might, but couldn’t stop red from staining her cheeks. “It might be,” she hedged. At the look in Marceline’s eyes though, she sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine,” she grouched. “I listened in on some of it. I couldn’t hear most of what was said though.”

“Sure,” Marceline told her. “You heard all of it didn’t you?”

“No… Just a little bit in the middle.” She paused, wondering if she should just say straight out which bits she’d heard. “Hmm… The bit where mum told you about Charlie.”

“Why did _you_ never tell me that?”

“Wasn’t important. Lucy just got a little bit too tipsy and thought it’d be fun to tell everyone,” Bonnie explained. “That’s all.”

“Your parents had him expelled didn’t they?”

She just nodded. What else was there to say anyway?

After a moment, Marceline put forth, “They will never be happy about this, you know.”

“I know.”

“But they can _accept_ it. Cynthia said she doesn’t hate me. That’s good, right?”

“It is a step towards world domination to be sure.”

Marceline chuckled at that. “Sure, world domination. Are you alright with ‘just acceptance’?”

“I am. Are you?”

“So long as they don’t expel me, I think I’ll be fine.” Marceline beamed at her. “I meant what I said to them. About leaving.”

“I don’t want you to leave, Marceline. Ever.” She was shocked that Marceline could think Bonnie would so much as contemplate it. Pretty sure their current conversation was over, she said, “I think you nailed the love song, by the way.”

“Yeah? Pretty good, huh? It’s not perfect, but the other one I was working on isn’t done yet.”

“Consider me your beta listener then,” Bonnie told her brightly. “I’m pretty good at telling you how much you suck.”

“That’s true. When we get home, I’ll sing it for you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“In the mean-time,” Marceline said, pushing her chair back to stand and throwing out a hand to Bonnibel. “Let’s dance.”

“Seriously? _Dance_? Here? Are you high?”

“Nope, but it’s nearly midnight and I’m pretty sure it’s a law or something that you have to dance on New Years’.”

“There’s no law that says that, Marceline,” Bonnie replied flatly. But she took the hand offered her and stood anyway.

“Nice dress, by the way,” Marceline said, spinning Bonnie in close with a surprisingly practiced flick of her wrist. “I’m a little jealous that everyone else saw it first.”

“Marshall said he appreciated it more.”

“He was lying to you, Bon. _No one_ appreciates it more than me.” And she said it so honestly that Bonnie couldn’t help but believe her. In spite of the mischief in her eyes.

“You had this band thing all planned out didn’t you?” Bonnie asked her, leaning against Marceline and wrapping her arms around the other woman’s neck. “That’s what you’ve been doing all week, huh? Were you behind the mysterious delay suffered by the _actual_ band?”

Marceline grinned impishly at her. “We might have… sabotaged the engine a little,” she admitted. “Keeping them far enough away that they couldn’t ever hope to make it here. Plus, Bongo really wanted to find out if he was good enough to sneak all his equipment in right under all these mortal noses. He was pretty pleased with himself.”

“I’ll bet. It’s quite a feat.”

“Mmm.”

“You know this isn’t really dancing right,” Bonnie muttered at length.

“Would you like to do a _proper_ dance then?” Marceline chuckled, the sound reverberating in her chest. “I’m qualified you know.”

“To dance? What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve been around a while, Bon.” She gave a sort of half-shrug when she said that. “I do know how to dance.”

Bonnie straightened to look her in the eye. “Really? As in… Ballroom dancing?”

“Yes, Bon. As in ballroom dancing. Why are you surprised?”

She blinked and decided she should have expected that. Marceline can do a great many things given she’d had so much time to work on them. Bonnie rested her chin back on Marceline’s shoulder. “You’re full of surprises that aren’t really all that surprising, given thought on the matter,” Bonnie admitted. “I should just accept you can do anything and move on.”

“Not quite anything,” Marceline said, still smiling. “But thank you for the compliment.”

Bonnie yawned; apparently leaning against Marceline was making her tired. She supposed that made sense since she didn’t have to put any actual effort into staying upright. “What time is it? Can we go home now?”

“Mmm… five minutes to midnight. Can you hold on that much longer?”

“Sure. I guess,” Bonnie replied drowsily. It was only a few seconds later that she had to stifle another yawn though. “Let go. Maybe if I have to stand by myself it’ll wake me up a bit.”

“Yeah… no. I don’t think I’ll do that.”

“Marceline…” she grumbled. “Please.”

With a sigh meant to sound supremely upset, Marceline let her go. Happily, Bonnie didn’t fall flat on her face, but standing alone didn’t seem to improve her wakefulness either. Marceline frowned at her, clearly not at all happy.

“Let me just get a drink, alright?” Bonnie told her.

“By drink you mean…?”

“Water.”

“Of course. Let’s go then.”

Bonnie blinked at her, not needing to be escorted, but she didn’t say so. Marceline kept glancing over her shoulder at the pavilion as Bonnie poured a glass of water. Bonnie wasn’t sure why and she didn’t care to ask. At least, she did her best not to care about asking. But she liked answers. “What’s up, hey? You keep checking the pavilion. Waiting for someone?”

“Wha-? Oh, no, nothing,” she said, returning her attention to Bonnie. “Just… nearly midnight. That’s all.”

“Got plans for the New Year, huh?”

A smile, quiet and gentle, creased Marceline’s mouth. “Maybe. Does your mother do a countdown?”

“The clock chimes,” Bonnie told her. “It can be set to count down from sixty. It belongs to the church, they use it mostly for exams and stuff, but mum always borrows it for New Years’.”

“The church doesn’t mind?” Marceline seemed surprised by that.

“No, Father Paul is here tonight with his family anyway. They’re good friends with mum. She volunteers for them a lot.”

Now Marceline’s eyebrows shot up and she stared gobsmacked at Bonnie. “Are your parents religious?”

“Not really,” Bonnie laughed at her. “They go to church every week, but they’re not exceptionally devout. Why?”

“No, I just… wouldn’t have picked it.”

“You can be religious without being some crazy zealot you know.”

Marceline waved a hand. “Oh, I know that. I just happen to have met some of those crazy zealots and it can be hard to forget they’re actually the minority.”

Bonnie put her glass down, empty. She was about to say something to that – it was terrible how easily she forgot just how old Marceline truly was – but was interrupted as the clock started tolling. _Dnnnng_. She turned instinctively to stare up at it. _Dnnnng_. Little lights around the outside were flashing now; they’d been tied on separately to create an effect. They too were timed and would stop not long after midnight.

 _Dnnnng_.

Cold fingers wound around her wrist, making her shiver, start and spin back to Marceline. Her heart picked up speed then for no real reason except the look in Marceline’s eyes. It took her brain a moment to register how close Marceline had pulled her.

 _Dnnnng_.

“Pretty sure there _is_ a rule about New Years’,” Marceline whispered, the lights around the clock reflecting in her eyes.

 _Dnnnng_.

Bonnie’s fingers clenched reflexively in the collar of Marceline’s vest, her heart now pounding up around her ears. “Got to follow the rules, yeah?” Marceline asked her cheekily. Her half-smile tilted across her face, hands curled around Bonnie’s hip. 

_Dnnnng_.

“I’m a pretty big fan of rules,” Bonnie breathed. “That’s true. But… my parents…” It was a lame excuse and died even as she spoke it.

 _Dnnnng_.

“I don’t think they’ll mind, Bon,” Marceline told her. “It has to come out sometime. Might as well be now.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners, one hand now cupping Bonnie’s cheek. “Plus, I think Lucy already has suspicions, no matter what I told your folks.”

 _Dnnnng_.

“Lucy didn’t know,” Bonnie said. “But I don’t really care if she finds out.” Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t care. I _want_ them all to know.”

 _Dnnnng_.

“Me too.”

 _Dnnnng_.

Marceline’s fingers tilted Bonnie’s face slightly so their lips met. Gently at first, but Bonnie’s grip on her collar tightened, pulled her closer. Marceline chuckled softly as Bonnie nibbled her lip. Carefully she leaned back, still smiling. “Easy there. This is your mother’s back yard, remember?” But she said it fondly and didn’t pull away completely.

Bonnie sighed, partly from being wound up and let go, but also from contentment. So she smiled. Marceline grinned back, teeth flashing in the light from the lanterns. For a long moment, they just stood there, staring. Then, of course, Bonnie yawned.

“Oh. My. God.”

Still trying to stifle the yawn, Bonnie nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice and if not for Marceline’s arm still around her waist, she probably would have lost her balance. Marceline’s eyes went wide in shock, but then her grin returned and she just laughed. Bonnie twisted around and there, standing behind her, was Lucy.

It was the most satisfying thing she’d ever seen – ever had the pleasure of being involved in to be honest. Lucy Pinterry, gossip extraordinaire, was lost for words. Her eyes should have popped from her skull and her jaw hung lankly from its hinges as if she no longer had the willpower to keep her mouth shut. Ha, that was a joke, Bonnie realised and it made her smile just as broadly as Marceline.

 _Keep her mouth shut_ , she chortled to herself. _As if Lucy ever knew how to do that in the first place_.

Lucy lifted a shaking hand and, gestured in a broad circle, waving it up and down, indicating their general direction. “What…” she attempted. “I… What…? Um… What’s going on?” she eventually stuttered.

“It’s New Years’, Lucy,” Marceline said cheerily, stepping away from Bonnie slightly. She kept hold of one hand though. “Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen on New Years’?”

“I’m so confused,” Lucy whispered. “Are… what is this?”

“Friends with benefits?” Marceline joked causing Lucy to choke on absolutely nothing.

“She’s my girlfriend, Lucy,” Bonnie corrected glaring at Marceline who didn’t look even the slightest bit repentant. “Has been for three months now. Feel free to tell everyone.”

Lucy’s mouth worked silently as though unable to find the words she wanted. Then she blinked, concentrating on the present, collecting a semblance of dignity and wrapping it around herself like a bathrobe. “Wait, what? You’re not even going to swear me to secrecy?”

“No,” Bonnie said simply. “I don’t care who finds out.”

“But,” Lucy spluttered. “What about your parents? Rain? _Robert_?”

“They all know.”

Lucy’s knees wobbled. “I think I should retire as gossip,” she said melodramatically, pressing the back of one hand to her brow. “Clearly I’m out of the loop.”

“Three months out,” Marceline laughed, tugging on Bonnie’s hand. “Come on, let’s go home, sleepy.” She lifted her other hand to wave at Keila and the others, still on the stage. “Before you fall down.”

“Goodnight, Lucy,” Bonnie called happily over her shoulder as they headed for the exit. Her friend still looked like she’d been slugged in the gut. And that was the best present ever.

Manfred was still under the arch, as always. He glanced around when he heard their heels crunching on the gravel. And his brow furrowed in a frown. Not that she could see the actual frown behind his glasses of course, but there was a slight downward curve to his mouth and a line creasing his forehead.

“Going home now, Bonnibel?” he asked slowly. She could only assume he was staring at Marceline.

“Yes, Manfred, it is well and truly time to sleep,” she replied. Her fingers tightened on Marceline’s hand under his intense scrutiny.

He nodded and lifted a large finger to indicate Marceline. His gravelly voice sounded threatening even if he didn’t mean it to when he grumbled, “You weren’t on the list. How did you get in?”

Marceline beamed at him. “Why, as a professional party crasher I’m quite practiced at getting in to all sorts of places.” She sketched a mocking bow. “Don’t worry yourself. I didn’t get up to any mischief.”

“That’s actually a lie, Marcy,” Bonnie said softly. “You did sing that song… And yell at my mother.”

“I didn’t get up to any _public_ mischief,” she amended, her smile not slipping for a moment.

“Crashers are usually charged and detained at the police station over-night,” Manfred told them ominously.

“Pretend she was my plus one then, Manfred,” Bonnie hastened to say before Marceline could spout something stupid.

She imagined his eyes swung round to look at her, only just now taking in the fact that she was holding very tightly to Marceline’s hand. “You never use your plus one,” he said quietly. “You told me so earlier that you never planned on it.” There was a question in his words that Bonnie found she had no idea how to answer.

“Marceline is an exception,” Bonnie said at length. 

His eyebrows backed up and completely reversed his expression, now one of bewilderment; they sat up high on his forehead. “Oh,” he said understanding exactly what she meant. Then he smiled, exposing a row of straight, white teeth. “I guess I can take back what I said earlier about the dress then, can’t I?”

Bonnie laughed, allowing Marceline to lead her down the drive. “Yes you can. Say hello to your wife for me. Happy New Year!”

“I thought you were removed from the guest list,” Marceline mentioned as they headed for the car. “How did _you_ get in, apprentice party crasher?”

Bonnie just smiled at her. “I’ll tell you how I did it, if you tell me how _you_ got in.”

“A master never reveals her secrets,” Marceline taunted. 

“I guess you’ll never know then.” She jangled the keys for a moment then tossed them to Marceline. “I’m not driving tired.”

“But… I’m _invisible_.”

“Maybe, but you don’t need sleep as much as I do. That makes you much safer behind the wheel.” She slid into the passenger seat and waited. Eventually, Marceline flopped into the other side and started the car.

Happily, the drive home wasn’t as boring and empty as the drive up had been. For the first half hour she was perfectly happy to have Marceline there to sing songs on the radio and smile at her occasionally. This was the right way to drive: with company. Of course, it didn’t last the whole trip because she fell asleep.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

“Aw, crap,” Marceline grumbled, waking her. She glanced down as Bonnie’s eyes opened. “Sorry, Bon. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What…? Are we home?”

“Yeah. I just… dropped my guitar, sorry.” She winced as she stepped away and her foot hit the guitar again making it sing sadly. “Oops.”

Bonnie blinked, sitting up. “What time is it?”

“One-thirty. I might have broken a few speed limits getting here. Go back to sleep.”

“No.” 

Marceline stopped and turned at the fierceness in Bonnie’s tone. “Excuse me? Why not?”

“You promised you’d sing me a song when we got home. I’m holding you to it.”

“Bonnie… it’s really early. Just go to sleep. I’ll sing it tomorrow.”

“No. Sit down and sing it now.”

She was on the sofa, she noticed suddenly. It was unfolded and she was still in her black dress, a sheet thrown over her legs and a pillow under her head, her bag next to her. Slowly, Marceline sat beside her.

“You get awfully bossy when you’re tired,” Marceline noted. She fixed Bonnie with a strange mix of confusion and amusement, but sidled across the mattress until their hips bumped together. “Alright then, I’ll sing you a song. But only if you promise to tell me what my Christmas present was. You still didn’t give it to me.”

“I’d like a bit of leeway there, Abadeer. I was kidnapped by your psycho boyfriend if you recall. I was preoccupied,” she said flatly. “And I’ve been very patient about your so-called present too. Whatever it is.”

Marceline cringed. “Oh right… I forgot about that. Well I’ll tell you once I’ve sung the song alright?”

“Alright.” Bonnie rested her head on Marceline’s shoulder. “Go for it.”

“It’s not finished… Still a work in progress, so it’s really only half a song. But-”

“Just sing.”

Marceline huffed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“ _I go too fast, think too slow,_  
 _I change like the weather._  
 _I know you could do better._  
 _I don’t know what you see._  
 _You think your hair’s too short;_  
 _Your eyes are too green._  
 _Girl, I don’t know what you mean._  
 _Not that you are, but if you’re asking me…_  
 _When I look at you_  
 _I know there’s nothing to improve_  
 _Because you’re perfect, girl._  
 _Every little move_  
 _And every little groove_  
 _Makes me sing._  
 _This world would change a lot about you, baby, if it could,_  
 _But looking through the glass that I’m seeing through_  
 _I wouldn’t change a thing about, a thing about you._  
 _Every little imperfection only makes you, you._  
 _And when I look at you, there’s nothing to improve…_ ”

Her singing stopped, her eyes fixed on Bonnie. She added the end of the line, “You’re perfect, girl.” Marceline sighed, her fingers fiddling with Bonnie’s dress. “See,” she eventually muttered. “Incomplete and kinda rubbish. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Bonnie didn’t answer for a long minute. Partly because she was tired, but mostly because it was hard to talk around the lump in her throat and the silly smile on her face. “No,” she eventually whispered. “It was beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Marceline laughed. “No one’s ever said _that_ before. Not sure I deserve it.”

“Trust me,” Bonnie said, turning her face to kiss Marceline’s jaw. “You deserve it.”

The other woman swallowed. “I guess,” she said shakily, voice cracking. She tried again, “I guess I should tell you what your present was then, yeah?”

“Mm, alright.” Her fingers toyed with the lowest button on Marceline’s vest.

“Well… I went to see my dad on Christmas and asked a favour from him. Just to see what he’d have to say about it.” She paused, clearly not at all sure if she actually wanted to tell Bonnie what she’d seen her dad about. “I… I asked his permission to turn you,” she finally muttered roughly. “He…” Bonnie pulled away to look Marceline in the eyes. “He gave me one bite, but… only if you ask for it.” Her dark gaze searched Bonnie’s eyes for any trace of fear or horror. “You don’t have to accept it,” she added hastily. “I told you I wouldn’t force it on you or anything like that. It’s just… an offer.”

Gently, Bonnie kissed her cheek. “Alright.”

“That’s it? Alright? Alright what?” Marceline sounded panicked.

“Alright,” Bonnie repeated, smiling against Marceline’s skin. “Thank you. Hold on to that gift for a while would you? I don’t like making hasty decisions.”

Marceline’s hold on her contracted suddenly. “You’re… going to _think_ about it?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Sure, I know you said there are a lot of downsides to it like watching everyone I know grow old and die… But the _flipside_? I like the look of it.”

Marceline exhaled, shuddering and asked in a low cracked voice, “What’s the flipside?”

“Eternity with you.”

Ever so carefully, Marceline pulled Bonnie into her lap. “Y… You’re ok… with that? You’d lose _everyone_ you know, Bonnie.”

“You can’t take that offer back now, Marcy,” Bonnie whispered. She groped around beside her for the little bag she’d had with her all night. Her fingers at last closed around it and began to search inside until they finally clasped a small papery bundle. “Would you like your present now?” she asked softly.

Marceline swallowed again, nodded. “Sure,” she rasped.

Bonnie used one hand to push Marceline against the back of the sofa and with the other held up the item she’d found in her bag. There was almost no light in the room, but it was more than enough to illuminate the red bow on her palm. It had a multitude of loops blossoming from its centre and a pin on one side. Marceline frowned at it, not understanding.

At least, she didn’t understand until Bonnie used that pin to clip it to the neckline of her dress. Then her eyes shot wide open and she gulped. “Um…” Marceline whispered.

Bonnie just grinned at her, using the exact same lopsided smile Marceline herself utilised so often and leaned down to kiss her. With agonising slowness, she worked her way from Marceline’s mouth to her ear earning little whimpers as she went. Bonnie sucked on her earlobe and then muttered, “It might be late, but I do believe it’s polite to unwrap your presents, Marceline.”

Beneath her, Marceline was shaking like a leaf in a gale. At those words, though, she stilled. Bonnie could feel her smile before she was flipped over, Marceline now straddling her hips. Marceline’s teeth grazed roughly along her jawline and Bonnie’s fingers tightened in her vest, holding her as close as possible. “Yes, ma’am,” Marceline purred into her ear.


End file.
